A    THIN    GHOST 

• 

AND  OTHERS 


•T  LOS  AUGELES 

tnrrv.  OF  CALIF 


A  THIN  GHOST 

AND    OTHERS 


BY 

MONTAGUE  RHODES  JAMES,  Lrrr.D. 

PROVOST  OF   ETON   COLLEGE 
Author  of  "Ghost  Stories  of  an  Antiquary,"  "More  Ghost  Stories,"  etc 


NEW  YORK 

LONGMANS,     GREEN    &>     CO. 
LONDON:  EDWARD  ARNOLD 

1919 

(AH  rights  reserved) 


PREFACE 

TWO  of  these  stories,  the  third  and  fourth, 
have  appeared  in  print  in  the   Cambridge 
Review,  and  I   wish  to   thank   the   proprietor 
for  permitting  me  to  republish  them  here. 

I  have  had  my  doubts  about  the  wisdom  of 
publishing  a  third  set  of  tales ;  sequels  are,  not 
only  proverbially  but  actually,  very  hazardous 
things.  However,  the  tales  make  no  pretence 
but  to  amuse,  and  my  friends  have  not  seldom 
asked  for  the  publication.  So  not  a  great  deal 
is  risked,  perhaps,  and  perhaps  also  some  one's 
Christmas  may  be  the  cheerfuller  for  a  story- 
book which,  I  think,  only  once  mentions  the 
war. 


2130631 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE    RESIDENCE   AT   WHITMINSTER  .                .                .1 

THE    DIARY   OF   MR.    POYNTER        .  .                 .                 -49 

AX    EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL    HISTORY  .                 .                 •      73 

THE  STORY   OF   A   DISAPPEARANCE   AND  AN   APPEARANCE    IO7 

TWO   DOCTORS        .                .                .  .                .                •    J35 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER 


A  Thin  Ghost  and  Others 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER 

DR.  ASHTON— Thomas  Ashton,  Doctor  of 
Divinity — sat  in  his  study,  habited  in 
a  dressing-gown,  and  with  a  silk  cap  on  his 
shaven  head — his  wig  being  for  the  time  taken 
off  and  placed  on  its  block  on  a  side  table.  He 
was  a  man  of  some  fifty-five  years,  strongly 
made,  of  a  sanguine  complexion,  an  angry  eye, 
and  a  long  upper  lip.  Face  and  eye  were 
lighted  up  at  the  moment  when  I  picture  him 
by  the  level  ray  of  an  afternoon  sun  that  shone 
in  upon  him  through  a  tall  sash  window,  giving 
on  the  west.  The  room  into  which  it  shone 
was  also  tall,  lined  with  book-cases,  and,  where 
the  wall  showed  between  them,  panelled.  On 
the  table  near  the  doctor's  elbow  was  a  green 
cloth,  and  upon  it  what  he  would  have  called 
a  silver  standish — a  tray  with  inkstands — quill 
pens,  a  calf-bound  book  or  two,  some  papers, 
a  churchwarden  pipe  and  brass  tobacco-box,  a 
flask  cased  in  plaited  straw,  and  a  liqueur  glass. 


4  A  THIN   GHOST   AND   OTHERS 

The  year  was  1730,  the  month  December,  the 
hour  somewhat  past  three  in  the  afternoon. 

I  have  described  in  these  lines  pretty  much  all 
that  a  superficial  observer  would  have  noted 
when  he  looked  into  the  room.  What  met 
Dr.  Ashton's  eye  when  he  looked  out  of  it, 
sitting  in  his  leather  arm-chair  ?  Little  more 
than  the  tops  of  the  shrubs  and  fruit-trees  of 
his  garden  could  be  seen  from  that  point,  but 
the  red  brick  wall  of  it  was  visible  in  almost  all 
the  length  of  its  western  side.  In  the  middle  of 
that  was  a  gate — a  double  gate  of  rather  elabo- 
rate iron  scroll-work,  which  allowed  something 
of  a  view  beyond.  Through  it  he  could  see  that 
the  ground  sloped  away  almost  at  once  to  a 
bottom,  along  which  a  stream  must  run,  and 
rose  steeply  from  it  on  the  other  side,  up  to  a 
field  that  was  park-like  in  character,  and  thickly 
studded  with  oaks,  now,  of  course,  leafless. 
They  did  not  stand  so  thick  together  but  that 
some  glimpse  of  sky  and  horizon  could  be  seen 
between  their  stems.  The  sky  was  now  golden 
and  the  horizon,  a  horizon  of  distant  woods, 
it  seemed,  was  purple. 

But  all  that  Dr.  Ashton  could  find  to  say, 
after  contemplating  this  prospect  for  many 
minutes,  was:  "Abominable!" 


THE   RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER       5 

A  listener  would  have  been  aware,  imme- 
diately upon  this,  of  the  sound  of  footsteps 
coming  somewhat  hurriedly  in  the  direction 
of  the  study :  by  the  resonance  he  could 
have  told  that  they  were  traversing  a  much 
larger  room.  Dr.  Ashton  turned  round  in 
his  chair  as  the  door  opened,  and  looked 
expectant.  The  incomer  was  a  lady — a  stout 
lady  in  the  dress  of  the  time :  though  I  have 
made  some  attempt  at  indicating  the  doctor's 
costume,  I  will  not  enterprise  that  of  his  wife 
—for  it  was  Mrs.  Ashton  who  now  entered.  She 
had  an  anxious,  even  a  sorely  distracted,  look, 
and  it  was  in  a  very  disturbed  voice  that  she 
almost  whispered  to  Dr.  Ashton,  putting  her 
head  close  to  his,  "  He's  in  a  very  sad  way, 
love,  worse,  I'm  afraid."  "  Tt — tt,  is  he  really  ?  " 
and  he  leaned  back  and  looked  in  her  face. 
She  nodded.  Two  solemn  bells,  high  up,  and 
not  far  away,  rang  out  the  half-hour  at  this 
moment.  Mrs.  Ashton  started.  "  Oh,  do  you 
think  you  can  give  order  that  the  minster  clock 
be  stopped  chiming  to-night  ?  'Tis  just  over  his 
chamber,  and  will  keep  him  from  sleeping, 
and  to  sleep  is  the  only  chance  for  him,  that's 
certain."  "  Why,  to  be  sure,  if  there  were  need, 
real  need,  it  could  be  done,  but  not  upon  any 


6  A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

light  occasion.  This  Frank,  now,  do  you  assure 
me  that  his  recovery  stands  upon  it  ?  "  said 
Dr.  Ashton  :  his  voice  was  loud  and  rather  hard. 
"  I  do  verily  believe  it,"  said  his  wife.  "  Then, 
if  it  must  be,  bid  Molly  run  across  to  Simpkins 
and  say  on  my  authority  that  he  is  to  stop  the 
clock  chimes  at  sunset :  and — yes — she  is  after 
that  to  say  to  my  lord  Saul  that  I  wish  to  see 
him  presently  in  this  room."  Mrs.  Ashton 
hurried  off. 

Before  any  other  visitor  enters,  it  will  be 
well  to  explain  the  situation. 

Dr.  Ashton  was  the  holder,  among  other 
preferments,  of  a  prebend  in  the  rich  collegiate 
church  of  Whitminster,  one  of  the  foundations 
which,  though  not  a  cathedral,  survived  dissolu- 
tion and  reformation,  and  retained  its  constitu- 
tion and  endowments  for  a  hundred  years  after 
the  time  of  which  I  write.  The  great  church, 
the  residences  of  the  dean  and  the  two  preben- 
daries, the  choir  and  its  appurtenances,  were  all 
intact  and  in  working  order.  A  dean  who 
flourished  soon  after  1500  had  been  a  great 
builder,  and  had  erected  a  spacious  quadrangle 
of  red  brick  adjoining  the  church  for  the  resi- 
dence of  the  officials.  Some  of  these  persons 
were  no  longer  required :  their  offices  had 


dwindled  down  to  mere  titles,  borne  by  clergy 
or  lawyers  in  the  town  and  neighbourhood  ;  and 
so  the  houses  that  had  been  meant  to  accommo- 
date eight  or  ten  people  were  now  shared  among 
three,  the  dean  and  the  two  prebendaries. 
Dr.  Ashton's  included  what  had  been  the 
common  parlour  and  the  dining-hall  of  the 
whole  body.  It  occupied  a  whole  side  of 
the  court,  and  at  one  end  had  a  private  door 
into  the  minster.  The  other  end,  as  we  have 
seen,  looked  out  over  the  country. 

So  much  for  the  house.  As  for  the  inmates, 
Dr.  Ashton  was  a  wealthy  man  and  childless, 
and  he  had  adopted,  or  rather  undertaken  to 
bring  up,  the  orphan  son  of  his  wife's  sister. 
Frank  Sydall  was  the  lad's  name  :  he  had  been 
a  good  many  months  in  the  house.  Then  one 
day  came  a  letter  from  an  Irish  peer,  the  Earl 
of  Kildonan  (who  had  known  Dr.  Ashton  at 
college),  putting  it  to  the  doctor  whether  he 
would  consider  taking  into  his  family  the 
Viscount  Saul,  the  Earl's  heir,  and  acting  in 
some  sort  as  his  tutor.  Lord  Kildonan  was 
shortly  to  take  up  a  post  in  the  Lisbon  Embassy, 
and  the  boy  was  unfit  to  make  the  voyage : 
"  not  that  he  is  sickly,"  the  Earl  wrote,  "  though 
you'll  find  him  whimsical,  or  of  late  I've  thought 


8  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

him  so,  and  to  confirm  this,  'twas  only  to-day 
his  old  nurse  came  expressly  to  tell  me  he  was 
possess'd  :  but  let  that  pass  ;  I'll  warrant  you 
can  find  a  spell  to  make  all  straight.  Your  arm 
was  stout  enough  in  old  days,  and  I  give  you 
plenary  authority  to  use  it  as  you  see  fit.  The 
truth  is,  he  has  here  no  boys  of  his  age  or 
quality  to  consort  with,  and  is  given  to  moping 
about  in  our  raths  and  graveyards  :  and  he 
brings  home  romances  that  fright  my  servants 
out  of  their  wits.  So  there  are  you  and  your 
lady  forewarned."  It  was  perhaps  with  half 
an  eye  open  to  the  possibility  of  an  Irish 
bishopric  (at  which  another  sentence  in  the 
Earl's  letter  seemed  to  hint)  that  Dr.  Ashton 
accepted  the  charge  of  my  Lord  Viscount  Saul 
and  of  the  200  guineas  a  year  that  were  to 
come  with  him. 

So  he  came,  one  night  in  September.  When 
he  got  out  of  the  chaise  that  brought  him,  he 
went  first  and  spoke  to  the  postboy  and  gave 
him  some  money,  and  patted  the  neck  of  his 
horse.  Whether  he  made  some  movement  that 
scared  it  or  not,  there  was  very  nearly  a  nasty 
accident,  for  the  beast  started  violently,  and 
the  postilion  being  unready  was  thrown  and 
lost  his  fee,  as  he  found  afterwards,  and  the 


THE   RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER      9 

chaise  lost  some  paint  on  the  gateposts,  and  the 
wheel  went  over  the  man's  foot  who  was  taking 
out  the  baggage.  When  Lord  Saul  came  up 
the  steps  into  the  light  of  the  lamp  in  the  porch 
to  be  greeted  by  Dr.  Ashton,  he  was  seen  to 
be  a  thin  youth  of,  say,  sixteen  years  old,  with 
straight  black  hair  and  the  pale  colouring  that 
is  common  to  such  a  figure.  He  took  the 
accident  and  commotion  calmly  enough,  and 
expressed  a  proper  anxiety  for  the  people  who 
had  been,  or  might  have  been,  hurt :  his  voice 
was  smooth  and  pleasant,  and  without  any 
trace,  curiously,  of  an  Irish  brogue. 

Frank  Sydall  was  a  younger  boy,  perhaps  of 
eleven  or  twelve,  but  Lord  Saul  did  not  for  that 
reject  his  company.  Frank  was  able  to  teach 
him  various  games  he  had  not  known  in  Ireland, 
and  he  was  apt  at  learning  them  ;  apt,  too,  at 
his  books,  though  he  had  had  little  or  no  regular 
teaching  at  home.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was 
making  a  shift  to  puzzle  out  the  inscriptions 
on  the  tombs  in  the  minster,  and  he  would  often 
put  a  question  to  the  doctor  about  the  old 
books  in  the  library  that  required  some  thought 
to  answer.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  he  made 
himself  very  agreeable  to  the  servants,  for 
within  ten  days  of  his  coming  they  were  almost 


10 

falling  over  each  other  in  their  efforts  to  oblige 
him.  At  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Ashton  was  rather 
put  to  it  to  find  new  maidservants ;  for  there 
were  several  changes,  and  some  of  the  families 
in  the  town  from  which  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  draw  seemed  to  have  no  one  available.  She 
was  forced  to  go  further  afield  than  was  usual. 

These  generalities  I  gather  from  the  doctor's 
notes  in  his  diary  and  from  letters.  They  are 
generalities,  and  we  should  like,  in  view  of 
what  has  to  be  told,  something  sharper  and 
more  detailed.  We  get  it  in  entries  which 
begin  late  in  the  year,  and,  I  think,  were  posted 
up  all  together  after  the  final  incident ;  but  they 
cover  so  few  days  in  all  that  there  is  no  need 
to  doubt  that  the  writer  could  remember  the 
course  of  things  accurately. 

On  a  Friday  morning  it  was  that  a  fox,  or 
perhaps  a  cat,  made  away  with  Mrs.  Ashton's 
most  prized  black  cockerel,  a  bird  without  a 
single  white  feather  on  its  body.  Her  husband 
had  told  her  often  enough  that  it  would  make 
a  suitable  sacrifice  to  ^sculapius ;  that  had 
discomfited  her  much,  and  now  she  would 
hardly  be  consoled.  The  boys  looked  every- 
where for  traces  of  it :  Lord  Saul  brought  in 
a  few  feathers,  which  seemed  to  have  been 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    11 

partially  burnt  on  the  garden  rubbish-heap. 
It  was  on  the  same  day  that  Dr.  Ashton,  looking 
out  of  an  upper  window,  saw  the  two  boys 
playing  in  the  corner  of  the  garden  at  a  game 
he  did  not  understand.  Frank  was  looking 

w 

earnestly  at  something  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand.  Saul  stood  behind  him  and  seemed  to 
be  listening.  After  some  minutes  he  very 
gently  laid  his  hand  on  Frank's  head,  and 
almost  instantly  thereupon,  Frank  suddenly 
dropped  whatever  it  was  that  he  was  holding, 
clapped  his  hands  to  his  eyes,  and  sank  down 
on  the  grass.  Saul,  whose  face  expressed  great 
anger,  hastily  picked  the  object  up,  of  which  it 
could  only  be  seen  that  it  was  glittering,  put 
it  in  his  pocket,  and  turned  away,  leaving 
Frank  huddled  up  on  the  grass.  Dr.  Ashton 
rapped  on  the  window  to  attract  their  attention, 
and  Saul  looked  up  as  if  in  alarm,  and  then 
springing  to  Frank,  pulled  him  up  by  the  arm 
and  led  him  away.  When  they  came  in  to 
dinner,  Saul  explained  that  they  had  been 
acting  a  part  of  the  tragedy  of  Radamistus,  in 
which  the  heroine  reads  the  future  fate  of  her 
father's  kingdom  by  means  of  a  glass  ball  held 
in  her  hand,  and  is  overcome  by  the  terrible 
events  she  has  seen.  During  this  explanation 


12          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

Frank  said  nothing,  only  looked  rather  bewil- 
deredly  at  Saul.  He  must,  Mrs.  Ashton  thought, 
have  contracted  a  chill  from  the  wet  of  the 
grass,  for  that  evening  he  was  certainly  feverish 
and  disordered ;  and  the  disorder  was  of  the 
mind  as  well  as  the  body,  for  he  seemed  to  have 
something  he  wished  to  say  to  Mrs.  Ashton, 
only  a  press  of  household  affairs  prevented  her 
from  paying  attention  to  him  ;  and  when  she 
went,  according  to  her  habit,  to  see  that  the 
light  in  the  boys'  chamber  had  been  taken  away, 
and  to  bid  them  good-night,  he  seemed  to  be 
sleeping,  though  his  face  was  unnaturally  flushed, 
to  her  thinking :  Lord  Saul,  however,  was  pale 
and  quiet,  and  smiling  in  his  slumber. 

Next  morning  it  happened  that  Dr.  Ashton 
was  occupied  in  church  and  other  business,  and 
unable  to  take  the  boys'  lessons.  He  therefore 
set  them  tasks  to  be  written  and  brought  to 
him.  Three  times,  if  not  oftener,  Frank 
knocked  at  the  study  door,  and  each  time  the 
doctor  chanced  to  be  engaged  with  some  visitor, 
and  sent  the  boy  off  rather  roughly,  which  he 
later  regretted.  Two  clergymen  were  at  dinner 
this  day,  and  both  remarked — being  fathers  of 
families — that  the  lad  seemed  sickening  for  a 
fever,  in  which  they  were  too  near  the  truth, 


THE   RESIDENCE   AT  WHITMINSTER     13 

and  it  had  been  better  if  he  had  been  put  to 
bed  forthwith  :  for  a  couple  of  hours  later  in 
the  afternoon  he  came  running  into  the  house, 
crying  out  in  a  way  that  was  really  terrifying, 
and  rushing  to  Mrs.  Ashton,  clung  about  her, 
begging  her  to  protect  him,  and  saying,  "  Keep 
them  off  !  keep  them  off  !  "  without  inter- 
mission. And  it  was  now  evident  that  some 
sickness  had  taken  strong  hold  of  him.  He  was 
therefore  got  to  bed  in  another  chamber  from 
that  in  which  he  commonly  lay,  and  the  physi- 
cian brought  to  him :  who  pronounced  the  dis- 
order to  be  grave  and  affecting  the  lad's  brain, 
and  prognosticated  a  fatal  end  to  it  if  strict  quiet 
were  not  observed,  and  those  sedative  remedies 
used  which  he  should  prescribe. 

We  are  now  come  by  another  way  to  the 
point  we  had  reached  before.  The  minster 
clock  has  been  stopped  from  striking,  and  Lord 
Saul  is  on  the  threshold  of  the  study. 

'  What  account  can  you  give  of  this  poor 
lad's  state  ?  "  was  Dr.  Ashton's  first  question. 
4  Why,  sir,  little  more  than  you  know  already, 
I  fancy.  I  must  blame  myself,  though,  for 
giving  him  a  fright  yesterday  when  we  were 
acting  that  foolish  play  you  saw.  I  fear  I 
made  him  take  it  more  to  heart  than  I  meant." 


14 


'  How  so  ?  "  '  Well,  by  telling  him  foolish 
tales  I  had  picked  up  in  Ireland  of  what  we  call 
the  second  sight."  "  Second  sight !  What  kind 
of  sight  might  that  be  ?  "  "  Why,  you  know 
our  ignorant  people  pretend  that  some  are  able 
to  foresee  what  is  to  come — sometimes  in  a 
glass,  or  in  the  air,  maybe,  and  at  Kildonan 
we  had  an  old  woman  that  pretended  to  such  a 
power.  And  I  daresay  I  coloured  the  matter 
more  highly  than  I  should  :  but  I  never  dreamed 
Frank  would  take  it  so  near  as  he  did."  '  You 
were  wrong,  my  lord,  very  wrong,  in  meddling 
with  such  superstitious  matters  at  all,  and  you 
should  have  considered  whose  house  you  were 
in,  and  how  little  becoming  such  actions  are 
to  my  character  and  person  or  to  your  own : 
but  pray  how  came  it  that  you,  acting,  as  you 
say,  a  play,  should  fall  upon  anything  that 
could  so  alarm  Frank  ?  "  "  That  is  what  I  can 
hardly  tell,  sir  :  he  passed  all  in  a  moment  from 
rant  about  battles  and  lovers  and  Cleodora  and 
Antigenes  to  something  I  could  not  follow  at  all, 
and  then  dropped  down  as  you  saw."  '  Yes  : 
was  that  at  the  moment  when  you  laid  your 
hand  on  the  top  of  his  head  ?  "  Lord  Saul  gave 
a  quick  look  at  his  questioner — quick  and  spite- 
ful— and  for  the  first  time  seemed  unready  with 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    15 

an  answer.  "  About  that  time  it  may  have 
been,"  he  said.  "  I  have  tried  to  recollect  my- 
self, but  I  am  not  sure.  There  was,  at  any  rate, 
no  significance  in  what  I  did  then."  "  Ah  !  " 
said  Dr.  Ashton,  "  well,  my  lord,  I  should  do 
wrong  were  I  not  to  tell  you  that  this  fright  of 
my  poor  nephew  may  have  very  ill  consequences 
to  him.  The  doctor  speaks  very  despondingly 
of  his  state."  Lord  Saul  pressed  his  hands 
together  and  looked  earnestly  upon  Dr.  Ashton. 
"  I  am  willing  to  believe  you  had  no  bad  inten- 
tion, as  assuredly  you  could  have  no  reason 
to  bear  the  poor  boy  malice  :  but  I  cannot 
wholly  free  you  from  blame  in  the  affair."  As 
he  spoke,  the  hurrying  steps  were  heard  again, 
and  Mrs.  Ashton  came  quickly  into  the  room, 
carrying  a  candle,  for  the  evening  had  by  this 
time  closed  in.  She  was  greatly  agitated. 
"  0  come  !  "  she  cried,  "  come  directly.  I'm 
sure  he  is  going."  "  Going  ?  Frank  ?  Is  it 
possible  ?  Already  ?  "  With  some  such  inco- 
herent words  the  doctor  caught  up  a  book  of 
prayers  from  the  table  and  ran  out  after  his 
wife.  Lord  Saul  stopped  for  a  moment  where 
he  was.  Molly,  the  maid,  saw  him  bend  over 
and  put  both  hands  to  his  face.  If  it  were  the 
last  words  she  had  to  speak,  she  said  afterwards, 


16          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

he  was  striving  to  keep  back  a  fit  of  laughing. 
Then  he  went  out  softly,  following  the  others. 

Mrs.  Ashton  was  sadly  right  in  her  forecast. 
I  have  no  inclination  to  imagine  the  last  scene 
in  detail.  What  Dr.  Ashton.  records  is,  or  may 
be  taken  to  be,  important  to  the  story.  They 
asked  Frank  if  he  would  like  to  see  his  com- 
panion, Lord  Saul,  once  again.  The  boy  was 
quite  collected,  it  appears,  in  these  moments. 
"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  want  to  see  him  ;  but 
you  should  tell  him  I  am  afraid  he  will  be  very 
cold."  "  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Ashton.  "Only  that;"  said  Frank,  "but 
say  to  him  besides  that  I  am  free  of  them  now, 
but  he  should  take  care.  And  I  am  sorry  about 
your  black  cockerel,  Aunt  Ashton ;  but  he 
said  we  must  use  it  so,  if  we  were  to  see  all 
that  could  be  seen." 

Not  many  minutes  after,  he  was  gone.  Both 
the  Ashtons  were  grieved,  she  naturally  most ;  but 
the  doctor,  though  not  an  emotional  man,  felt 
the  pathos  of  the  early  death :  and,  besides,  there 
was  the  growing  suspicion  that  all  had  not  been 
told  him  by  Saul,  and  that  there  was  something 
here  which  was  out  of  his  beaten  track.  When 
he  left  the  chamber  of  death,  it  was  to  walk 
across  the  quadrangle  of  the  residence  to  the 


THE   RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    17 

sexton's  house.  A  passing  bell,  the  greatest 
of  the  minster  bells,  must  be  rung,  a  grave 
must  be  dug  in  the  minster  yard,  and  there 
was  now  no  need  to  silence  the  chiming  of  the 
minster  clock.  As  he  came  slowly  back  in  the 
dark,  he  thought  he  must  see  Lord  Saul  again. 
That  matter  of  the  black  cockerel — trifling  as 
it  might  seem — would  have  to  be  cleared  up. 
It  might  be  merely  a  fancy  of  the  sick  boy,  but 
if  not,  was  there  not  a  witch-trial  he  had  read, 
in  which  some  grim  little  rite  of  sacrifice  had 
played  a  part  ?  Yes,  he  must  see  Saul. 

I  rather  guess  these  thoughts  of  his  than 
find  written  authority  for  them.  That  there 
was  another  interview  is  certain :  certain  also 
that  Saul  would  (or,  as  he  said,  could)  throw  no 
light  on  Frank's  words :  though  the  message, 
or  some  part  of  it,  appeared  to  affect  him  horri- 
bly. But  there  is  no  record  of  the  talk  in  detail. 
It  is  only  said  that  Saul  sat  all  that  evening 
in  the  study,  and  when  he  bid  good-night, 
which  he  did  most  reluctantly,  asked  for  the 
doctor's  prayers. 

The  month  of  January  was  near  its  end  when 
Lord  Kildonan,  in  the  Embassy  at  Lisbon, 
received  a  letter  that  for  once  gravely  disturbed 
that  vain  man  and  neglectful  father.  Saul  was 

3 


18  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

dead.  The  scene  at  Frank's  burial  had  been 
very  distressing.  The  day  was  awful  in  black- 
ness and  wind :  the  bearers,  staggering  blindly 
along  under  the  flapping  black  pall,  found  it 
a  hard  job,  when  they  emerged  from  the  porch 
of  the  minster,  to  make  their  way  to  the  grave. 
Mrs.  Ashton  was  in  her  room — women  did  not 
then  go  to  their  kinsfolk's  funerals — but  Saul 
was  there,  draped  in  the  mourning  cloak  of  the 
time,  and  his  face  was  white  and  fixed  as  that 
of  one  dead,  except  when,  as  was  noticed  three 
or  four  times,  he  suddenly  turned  his  head  to 
the  left  and  looked  over  his  shoulder.  It  was 
then  alive  with  a  terrible  expression  of  listening 
fear.  No  one  saw  him  go  away :  and  no  one 
could  find  him  that  evening.  All  night  the 
gale  buffeted  the  high  windows  of  the  church, 
and  howled  over  the  upland  and  roared  through 
the  woodland.  It  was  useless  to  search  in 
the  open :  no  voice  of  shouting  or  cry  for 
help  could  possibly  be  heard.  All  that  Dr. 
Ashton  could  do  was  to  warn  the  people  about 
the  college,  and  the  town  constables,  and  to 
sit  up,  on  the  alert  for  any  news,  and  this  he 
did.  News  came  early  next  morning,  brought 
by  the  sexton,  whose  business  it  was  to  open 
the  church  for  early  prayers  at  seven,  and  who 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER     19 

sent  the  maid  rushing  upstairs  with  wild  eyes 
and  flying  hair  to  summon  her  master.  The 
two  men  dashed  across  to  the  south  door  of 
the  minster,  there  to  find  Lord  Saul  clinging 
desperately  to  the  great  ring  of  the  door,  his 
head  sunk  between  his  shoulders,  his  stockings 
in  rags,  his  shoes  gone,  his  legs  torn  and  bloody. 

This  was  what  had  to  be  told  to  Lord  Kil- 
donan,  and  this  really  ends  the  first  part  of 
the  story.  The  tomb  of  Frank  Sydall  and  of 
the  Lord  Viscount  Saul,  only  child  and  heir 
to  William  Earl  of  Kildonan,  is  one :  a  stone 
altar  tomb  in  Whitminster  churchyard. 

Dr.  Ashton  lived  on  for  over  thirty  years  in 
his  prebendal  house,  I  do  not  know  how  quietly, 
but  without  visible  disturbance.  His  successor 
preferred  a  house  he  already  owned  in  the  town, 
and  left  that  of  the  senior  prebendary  vacant. 
Between  them  these  two  men  saw  the  eighteenth 
century  out  and  the  nineteenth  in ;  for  Mr. 
Hindes,  the  successor  of  Ashton,  became  pre- 
bendary at  nine-and-twenty  and  died  at  nine- 
and-eighty.  So  that  it  was  not  till  1823  or 
1824  that  any  one  succeeded  to  the  post  who 
intended  to  make  the  house  his  home.  The 
man  who  did  was  Dr.  Henry  Oldys,  whose 
name  may  be  known  to  some  of  my  readers 


20          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

as  that  of  the  author  of  a  row  of  volumes 
labelled  Oldys's  Works,  which  occupy  a  place 
that  must  be  honoured,  since  it  is  so  rarely 
touched,  upon  the  shelves  of  many  a  substantial 
library. 

Dr.  Oldys,  his  niece,  and  his  servants  took 
some  months  to  transfer  furniture  and  books 
from  his  Dorsetshire  parsonage  to  the  quad- 
rangle of  Whitminster,  and  to  get  everything 
into  place.  But  eventually  the  work  was  done, 
and  the  house  (which,  though  untenanted,  had 
always  been  kept  sound  and  weather-tight)  woke 
up,  and  like  Monte  Cristo's  mansion  at  Auteuil, 
lived,  sang,  and  bloomed  once  more.  On  a 
certain  morning  hi  June  it  looked  especially 
fair,  as  Dr.  Oldys  strolled  in  his  garden  before 
breakfast  and  gazed  over  the  red  roof  at  the 
minster  tower  with  its  four  gold  vanes,  backed 
by  a  very  blue  sky,  and  very  white  little  clouds. 

"  Mary,"  he  said,  as  he  seated  himself  at  the 
breakfast  table  and  laid  down  something  hard 
and  shiny  on  the  cloth,  "  here's  a  find  which 
the  boy  made  just  now.  You'll  be  sharper  than 
I  if  you  can  guess  what  it's  meant  for."  It  was 
a  round  and  perfectly  smooth  tablet — as  much 
as  an  inch  thick — of  what  seemed  clear  glass. 
"  It  is  rather  attractive  at  all  events,"  said  Mary : 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    21 

she  was  a  fair  woman,  with  light  hair  and  large 
eyes,  rather  a  devotee  of  literature.  '  Yes," 
said  her  uncle,  "  I  thought  you'd  be  pleased 
with  it.  I  presume  it  came  from  the  house : 
it  turned  up  in  the  rubbish-heap  in  the  corner." 
I'm  not  sure  that  I  do  like  it,  after  all,"  said 
Mary,  some  minutes  later.  "  Why  in  the  world 
not,  my  dear  ?  "  "I  don't  know,  I'm  sure. 
Perhaps  it's  only  fancy."  "  Yes,  only  fancy 
and  romance,  of  course.  What's  that  book, 
now — the  name  of  that  book,  I  mean,  that 
you  had  your  head  in  all  yesterday  ? r' 
"  The  Talisman,  Uncle.  Oh,  if  this  should 
turn  out  to  be  a  talisman,  how  enchant- 
ing it  would  be  !  "  "  Yes,  The  Talisman  : 
ah,  well,  you're  welcome  to  it,  whatever  it 
is  :  I  must  be  off  about  my  business.  Is  all 
well  in  the  house  ?  Does  it  suit  you  ?  Any 
complaints  from  the  servants'  hall  ?  "  "  No, 
indeed,  nothing  could  be  more  charming.  The 
only  soup$on  of  a  complaint  besides  the  lock 
of  the  linen  closet,  which  I  told  you  of,  is  that 
Mrs.  Maple  says  she  cannot  get  rid  of  the 
saw  flies  out  of  that  room  you  pass  through  at 
the  other  end  of  the  hall.  By  the  way,  are 
you  sure  you  like  your  bedroom  ?  It  is  a  long 
way  off  from  any  one  else,  you  know."  "  Like 


22  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

it  ?  To  be  sure  I  do ;  the  further  off  from  you, 
my  dear,  the  better.  There,  don't  think  it 
necessary  to  beat  me :  accept  my  apologies. 
But  what  are  sawflies  ?  will  they  eat  my  coats  ? 
If  not,  they  may  have  the  room  to  themselves 
for  what  I  care.  We  are  not  likely  to  be  using 
it."  "  No,  of  course  not.  Well,  what  she  calls 
sawflies  are  those  reddish  things  like  a  daddy- 
longlegs, but  smaller,1  and  there  are  a  great 
many  of  them  perching  about  that  room, 
certainly.  I  don't  like  them,  but  I  don't  fancy 
they  are  mischievous."  "  There  seem  to  be 
several  things  you  don't  like  this  fine  morning," 
said  her  uncle,  as  he  closed  the  door.  Miss 
Oldys  remained  in  her  chair  looking  at  the 
tablet,  which  she  was  holding  in  the  palm  of 
her  hand.  The  smile  that  had  been  on  her 
face  faded  slowly  from  it  and  gave  place  to 
an  expression  of  curiosity  and  almost  strained 
attention.  Her  reverie  was  broken  by  the  en- 
trance of  Mrs.  Maple,  and  her  invariable  opening, 
"  Oh,  Miss,  could  I  speak  to  you  a  minute  ?  " 

A  letter  from  Miss  Oldys  to  a  friend  in 
Lichfield,  begun  a  day  or  two  before,  is  the 
next  source  for  this  story.  It  is  not  devoid  of 

1  Apparently  the  ichneumon  fly  (Ophion  obscurum),  and 
not  the  true  sawflv,  is  meant. 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    23 

traces  of  the  influence  of  that  leader  of  female 
thought  in  her  day,  Miss  Anna  Seward,  known 
to  some  as  the  Swan  of  Lichfield. 

"  My  sweetest  Emily  will  be  rejoiced  to  hear 
that  we  are  at  length — my  beloved  uncle  and 
myself — settled  in  the  house  that  now  calls  us 
master — nay,  master  and  mistress — as  in  past 
ages  it  has  called  so  many  others.  Here  we 
taste  a  mingling  of  modern  elegance  and  hoary 
antiquity,  such  as  has  never  ere  now  graced 
life  for  either  of  us.  The  town,  small  as  it 
is,  affords  us  some  reflection,  pale  indeed,  but 
veritable,  of  the  sweets  of  polite  intercourse  : 
the  adjacent  country  numbers  amid  the  occu- 
pants of  its  scattered  mansions  some  whose 
polish  is  annually  refreshed  by  contact  with 
metropolitan  splendour,  and  others  whose  robust 
and  homely  geniality  is,  at  times,  and  by  way 
of  contrast,  not  less  cheering  and  acceptable. 
Tired  of  the  parlours  and  drawing-rooms  of  our 
friends,  we  have  ready  to  hand  a  refuge  from 
the  clash  of  wits  or  the  small  talk  of  the  day 
amid  the  solemn  beauties  of  our  venerable 
minster,  whose  silvern  chimes  daily  '  knoll  us 
to  prayer,'  and  in  the  shady  walks  of  whose 
tranquil  graveyard  we  muse  with  softened 
heart,  and  ever  and  anon  with  moistened  eye, 


24          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

upon  the  memorials  of  the  young,  the  beautiful, 
the  aged,  the  wise,  and  the  good." 

Here  there  is  an  abrupt  break  both  in  the 
writing  and  the  style. 

"  But  my  dearest  Emily,  I  can  no  longer 
write  with  the  care  which  you  deserve,  and  in 
which  we  both  take  pleasure.  What  I  have  to 
tell  you  is  wholly  foreign  to  what  has  gone 
before.  This  morning  my  uncle  brought  in 
to  breakfast  an  object  which  had  been  found 
in  the  garden;  it  was  a  glass  or  crystal  tablet 
of  this  shape  (a  little  sketch  is  given),  which 
he  handed  to  me,  and  which,  after  he  left  the 
room,  remained  on  the  table  by  me.  I  gazed 
at  it,  I  know  not  why,  for  some  minutes,  till 
called  away  by  the  day's  duties  ;  and  you  will 
smile  incredulously  when  I  say  that  I  seemed  to 
myself  to  begin  to  descry  reflected  in  it  objects 
and  scenes  which  were  not  in  the  room  where 
I  was.  You  will  not,  however,  be  surprised 
that  after  such  an  experience  I  took  the  first 
opportunity  to  seclude  myself  in  my  room  with 
what  I  now  half  believed  to  be  a  talisman  of 
mickle  might.  I  was  not  disappointed.  I  assure 
you,  Emily,  by  that  memory  which  is  dearest 
to  both  of  us,  that  what  I  went  through  this 
afternoon  transcends  the  limits  of  what  I  had 


before  deemed  credible.  In  brief,  what  I  saw, 
seated  in  my  bedroom,  in  the  broad  daylight 
of  summer,  and  looking  into  the  crystal  depth 
of  that  small  round  tablet,  was  this.  First,  a 
prospect,  strange  to  me,  of  an  enclosure  of 
rough  and  hillocky  grass,  with  a  grey  stone 
ruin  in  the  midst,  and  a  wall  of  rough  stones 
about  it.  In  this  stood  an  old,  and  very  ugly, 
woman  in  a  red  cloak  and  ragged  skirt,  talking 
to  a  boy  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  maybe  a 
hundred  years  ago.  She  put  something  which 
glittered  into  his  hand,  and  he  something  into 
hers,  which  I  saw  to  be  money,  for  a  single 
coin  fell  from  her  trembling  hand  into  the 
grass.  The  scene  passed — I  should  have  re- 
marked, by  the  way,  that  on  the  rough  walls 
of  the  enclosure  I  could  distinguish  bones,  and 
even  a  skull,  lying  in  a  disorderly  fashion. 
Next,  I  was  looking  upon  two  boys ;  one  the 
figure  of  the  former  vision,  the  other  younger. 
They  were  in  a  plot  of  garden,  walled  round, 
and  this  garden,  in  spite  of  the  difference  in 
arrangement,  and  the  small  size  of  the  trees, 
I  could  clearly  recognize  as  being  that  upon 
which  I  now  look  from  my  window.  The  boys 
were  engaged  in  some  curious  play,  it  seemed. 
Something  was  smouldering  on  the  ground. 


26          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

The  elder  placed  his  hands  upon  it,  and  then 
raised  them  in  what  I  took  to  be  an  attitude  of 
prayer  :  and  I  saw,  and  started  at  seeing,  that 
on  them  were  deep  stains  of  blood.  The  sky 
above  was  overcast.  The  same  boy  now  turned 
his  face  towards  the  wall  of  the  garden,  and 
beckoned  with  both  his  raised  hands,  and  as 
he  did  so  I  was  conscious  that  some  moving 
objects  were  becoming  visible  over  the  top  of 
the  wall — whether  heads  or  other  parts  of 
some  animal  or  human  forms  I  could  not  tell. 
Upon  the  instant  the  elder  boy  turned  sharply, 
seized  the  arm  of  the  younger  (who  all  this  time 
had  been  poring  over  what  lay  on  the  ground), 
and  both  hurried  off.  I  then  saw  blood  upon 
the  grass,  a  little  pile  of  bricks,  and  what  I 
thought  were  black  feathers  scattered  about. 
That  scene  closed,  and  the  next  was  so  dark 
that  perhaps  the  full  meaning  of  it  escaped 
me.  But  what  I  seemed  to  see  was  a  form, 
at  first  crouching  low  among  trees  or  bushes 
that  were  being  threshed  by  a  violent  wind, 
then  running  very  swiftly,  and  constantly 
turning  a  pale  face  to  look  behind  him,  as  if 
he  feared  a  pursuer  :  and,  indeed,  pursuers  were 
following  hard  after  him.  Their  shapes  were 
but  dimly  seen,  their  number — three  or  four, 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    27 

perhaps,  only  guessed.  I  suppose  they  were 
on  the  whole  more  like  dogs  than  anything  else, 
but  dogs  such  as  we  have  seen  they  assuredly 
were  not.  Could  I  have  closed  my  eyes  to  this 
horror,  I  would  have  done  so  at  once,  but  I 
was  helpless.  The  last  I  saw  was  the  victim 
darting  beneath  an  arch  and  clutching  at  some 
object  to  which  he  clung  :  and  those  that  were 
pursuing  him  overtook  him,  and  I  seemed  to 
hear  the  echo  of  a  cry  of  despair.  It  may  be 
that  I  became  unconscious :  certainly  I  had 
the  sensation  of  awaking  to  the  light  of  day 
after  an  interval  of  darkness.  Such,  in  literal 
truth,  Emily,  was  my  vision — I  can  call  it  by 
no  other  name — of  this  afternoon.  Tell  me, 
have  I  not  been  the  unwilling  witness  of  some 
episode  of  a  tragedy  connected  with  this  very 
house  ?  " 

The  letter  is  continued  next  day.  "  The  tale 
of  yesterday  was  not  completed  when  I  laid 
down  my  pen.  I  said  nothing  of  my  experi- 
ences to  my  uncle — you  know,  yourself,  how 
little  his  robust  common-sense  would  be  pre- 
pared to  allow  of  them,  and  how  in  his  eyes 
the  specific  remedy  would  be  a  black  draught 
or  a  glass  of  port.  After  a  silent  evening,  then 
— silent,  not  sullen — I  retired  to  rest.  Judge 


28  A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

of  my  terror,  when,  not  yet  in  bed,  I  heard  what 
I  can  only  describe  as  a  distant  bellow,  and 
knew  it  for  my  uncle's  voice,  though  never  in 
my  hearing  so  exerted  before.  His  sleeping- 
room  is  at  the  further  extremity  of  this  large 
house,  and  to  gain  access  to  it  one  must  traverse 
an  antique  hall  some  eighty  feet  long  and  a 
lofty  panelled  chamber,  and  two  unoccupied 
bedrooms.  In  the  second  of  these — a  room 
almost  devoid  of  furniture — I  found  him,  in 
the  dark,  his  candle  lying  smashed  on  the  floor. 
As  I  ran  in,  bearing  a  light,  he  clasped  me  in 
arms  that  trembled  for  the  first  time  since  I 
have  known  him,  thanked  God,  and  hurried 
me  out  of  the  room.  He  would  say  nothing 
of  what  had  alarmed  him.  '  To-morrow,  to- 
morrow,' was  all  I  could  get  from  him.  A  bed 
was  hastily  improvised  for  him  in  the  room 
next  to  my  own.  I  doubt  if  his  night  was  more 
restful  than  mine.  I  could  only  get  to  sleep  in 
the  small  hours,  when  daylight  was  already 
strong,  and  then  my  dreams  were  of  the  grim- 
mest— particularly  one  which  stamped  itself  on 
my  brain,  and  which  I  must  set  down  on  the 
chance  of  dispersing  the  impression  it  has  made. 
It  was  that  I  came  up  to  my  room  with  a  heavy 
foreboding  of  evil  oppressing  me,  and  went  with 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    29 

a  hesitation  and  reluctance  I  could  not  explain 
to  my  chest  of  drawers.  I  opened  the  top 
drawer,  in  which  was  nothing  but  ribbons  and 
handkerchiefs,  and  then  the  second,  where  was 
as  little  to  alarm,  and  then,  0  heavens,  the 
third  and  last :  and  there  was  a  mass  of  linen 
neatly  folded :  upon  which,  as  I  looked  with 
curiosity  that  began  to  be  tinged  with  horror, 
I  perceived  a  movement  in  it,  and  a  pink  hand 
was  thrust  out  of  the  folds  and  began  to  grope 
feebly  in  the  air.  I  could  bear  it  no  more, 
and  rushed  from  the  room,  clapping  the  door 
after  me,  and  strove  with  all  my  force  to  lock 
it.  But  the  key  would  not  turn  in  the  wards, 
and  from  within  the  room  came  a  sound  of 
rustling  and  bumping,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  door.  Why  I  did  not  flee  down 
the  stairs  I  know  not.  I  continued  grasping  the 
handle,  and  mercifully,  as  the  door  was  plucked 
from  my  hand  with  an  irresistible  force,  I 
awoke.  You  may  not  think  this  very  alarming, 
but  I  assure  you  it  was  so  to  me. 

"  At  breakfast  to-day  my  uncle  was  very 
uncommunicative,  and  I  think  ashamed  of  the 
fright  he  had  given  us ;  but  afterwards  he 
inquired  of  me  whether  Mr.  Spearman  was  still 
in  town,  adding  that  he  thought  that  was  a 


30          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

young  man  who  had  some  sense  left  in  his  head. 
I  think  you  know,  my  dear  Emity,  that  I 
am  not  inclined  to  disagree  with  him  there,  and 
also  that  I  was  not  unlikely  to  be  able  to  answer 
his  question.  To  Mr.  Spearman  he  accordingly 
went,  and  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  I  must 
send  this  strange  budget  of  news  to  you  now, 
or  it  may  have  to  wait  over  more  than  one  post." 

The  reader  will  not  be  far  out  if  he  guesses 
that  Miss  Mary  and  Mr.  Spearman  made  a 
match  of  it  not  very  long  after  this  month  of 
June.  Mr.  Spearman  was  a  young  spark,  who 
had  a  good  property  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Whitminster,  and  not  unfrequently  about  this 
time  spent  a  few  days  at  the  "  King's  Head," 
ostensibly  on  business.  But  he  must  have  had 
some  leisure,  for  his  diary  is  copious,  especially 
for  the  days  of  which  I  am  telling  the  story. 
It  is  probable  to  me  that  he  wrote  this  episode 
as  fully  as  he  could  at  the  bidding  of  Miss 
Mary. 

"  Uncle  Oldys  (how  I  hope  I  may  have 
the  right  to  call  him  so  before  long  !)  called  this 
morning.  After  throwing  out  a  good  many 
short  remarks  on  indifferent  topics,  he  said 
*  I  wish,  Spearman,  you'd  listen  to  an  odd 
story  and  keep  a  close  tongue  about  it  just 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    31 

for  a  bit,  till  I  get  more  light  on  it.'  '  To  be 
sure,'  said  I,  '  you  may  count  on  me.'  '  I 
don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,'  he  said.  '  You 
know  my  bedroom.  It  is  well  away  from  every 
one  else's,  and  I  pass  through  the  great  hall 
and  two  or  three  other  rooms  to  get  to  it.' 
1  Is  it  at  the  end  next  the  minster,  then  ?  ' 
I  asked.  '  Yes,  it  is :  well,  now,  yesterday 
morning  my  Mary  told  me  that  the  room  next 
before  it  was  infested  with  some  sort  of  fly  that 
the  housekeeper  couldn't  get  rid  of.  That  may 
be  the  explanation,  or  it  may  not.  What  do 
you  think  ?  '  '  Why,'  said  I,  '  you've  not  yet 
told  me  what  has  to  be  explained.'  *  True 
enough,  I  don't  believe  I  have;  but  by-the-by, 
what  are  these  sawflies  ?  What's  the  size  of 
them  ?  '  I  began  to  wonder  if  he  was  touched 
in  the  head.  '  What  I  call  a  sawfly,'  I  said  very 
patiently,  '  is  a  red  animal,  like  a  daddy-long- 
legs, but  not  so  big,  perhaps  an  inch  long, 
perhaps  less.  It  is  very  hard  in  the  body,  and 
to  me ' — I  was  going  to  say  *  particularly  offen- 
sive,' but  he  broke  in,  '  Come,  come ;  an  inch 
or  less.  That  won't  do.'  '  I  can  only  tell  you,5 
I  said,  '  what  I  know.  Would  it  not  be  better 
if  you  told  me  from  first  to  last  what  it  is  that 
has  puzzled  you,  and  then  I  may  be  able  to 


32  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

give  you  some  kind  of  an  opinion.'  He  gazed  at 
me  meditatively.  '  Perhaps  it  would,'  he  said. 
'  I  told  Mary  only  to-day  that  I  thought  you 
had  some  vestiges  of  sense  in  your  head.'  (I 
bowed  my  acknowledgements.)  '  The  thing  is, 
I've  an  odd  kind  of  shyness  about  talking  of  it. 
Nothing  of  the  sort  has  happened  to  me  before. 
Well,  about  eleven  o'clock  last  night,  or  after, 
I  took  my  candle  and  set  out  for  my  room.  I 
had  a  book  in  my  other  hand — I  always  read 
something  for  a  few  minutes  before  I  drop  off 
to  sleep.  A  dangerous  habit :  I  don't  recom- 
mend it :  but  /  know  how  to  manage  my  light 
and  my  bed  curtains.  Now  then,  first,  as  I 
stepped  out  of  my  study  into  the  great  half 
that's  next  to  it,  and  shut  the  door,  my  candle 
went  out.  I  supposed  I  had  clapped  the  door 
behind  me  too  quick,  and  made  a  draught, 
and  I  was  annoyed,  for  I'd  no  tinder-box 
nearer  than  my  bedroom.  But  I  knew  my  way 
well  enough,  and  went  on.  The  next  thing 
was  that  my  book  was  struck  out  of  my  hand 
in  the  dark  :  if  I  said  twitched  out  of  my  hand 
it  would  better  express  the  sensation.  It  fell 
on  the  floor.  I  picked  it  up,  and  went  on, 
more  annoyed  than  before,  and  a  little  startled. 
But  as  you  know,  that  hall  has  many  windows 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    33 

without  curtains,  and  in  summer  nights  like 
these  it  is  easy  to  see  not  only  where  the 
furniture  is,  but  whether  there's  any  one  or 
anything  moving,  and  there  was  no  one — nothing 
of  the  kind.  So  on  I  went  through  the  hall  and 
through  the  audit  chamber  next  to  it,  which 
also  has  big  windows,  and  then  into  the  bed- 
rooms which  lead  to  my  own,  where  the  curtains 
were  drawn,  and  I  had  to  go  slower  because  of 
steps  here  and  there.  It  was  in  the  second  of 
those  rooms  that  I  nearly  got  my  quietus.  The 
moment  I  opened  the  door  of  it  I  felt  there 
was  something  wrong.  I  thought  twice,  I 
confess,  whether  I  shouldn't  turn  back  and 
find  another  way  there  is  to  my  room  rather 
than  go  through  that  one.  Then  I  was  ashamed 
of  myself,  and  thought  what  people  call  better 
of  it,  though  I  don't  know  about  "  better  "  in 
this  case.  If  I  was  to  describe  my  experience 
exactly,  I  should  say  this  :  there  was  a  dry, 
light,  rustling  sound  all  over  the  room  as  I 
went  in,  and  then  (you  remember  it  was  per- 
fectly dark)  something  seemed  to  rush  at  me, 
and  there  was — I  don't  know  how  to  put  it — 
a  sensation  of  long  thin  arms,  or  legs,  or  feelers, 
all  about  my  face,  and  neck,  and  body.  Very 
little  strength  in  them,  there  seemed  to  be,  but 

4 


84          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

Spearman,  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  more  horrified 
or  disgusted  in  all  my  life,  that  I  remember : 
and  it  does  take  something  to  put  me  out.  I 
roared  out  as  loud  as  I  could,  and  flung  away  my 
candle  at  random,  and,  knowing  I  was  near  the 
window,  I  tore  at  the  curtain  and  somehow- 
let  in  enough  light  to  be  able  to  see  something 
waving  which  I  knew  was  an  insect's  leg,  by 
the  shape  of  it :  but,  Lord,  what  a  size  !  Why 
the  beast  must  have  been  as  tall  as  I  am.  And 
now  you  tell  me  sawflies  are  an  inch  long  or 
less.  What  do  you  make  of  it,  Spearman  ?  ' 

"  '  For  goodness  sake  finish  your  story  first,5 
I  said.  '  I  never  heard  anything  like  it.'  '  Oh, 
said  he,  '  there's  no  more  to  tell.  Mary  ran  in 
with  a  light,  and  there  was  nothing  there.  I 
didn't  tell  her  what  was  the  matter.  I  changed 
my  room  for  last  night,  and  I  expect  for  good.' 
4  Have  you  searched  this  odd  room  of  yours  ?  ' 
I  said.  '  What  do  you  keep  in  it  ?  '  '  We 
don't  use  it,'  he  answered.  '  There's  an  old  press 
there,  and  some  little  other  furniture.'  '  And 
in  the  press  ?  '  said  I.  •'  I  don't  know  ;  I  never 
saw  it  opened,  but  I  do  know  that  it's  locked.' 
'  Well,  I  should  have  it  looked  into,  and,  if  you 
had  time,  I  own  to  having  some  curiosity  to 
see  the  place  myself.'  '  I  didn't  exactly  like  to 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    35 

ask  you,  but  that's  rather  what  I  hoped  you'd 
say.  Name  your  time  and  I'll  take  you  there.' 
'  No  time  like  the  present,'  I  said  at  once,  for 
I  saw  he  would  never  settle  down  to  anything 
while  this  affair  was  in  suspense.  He  got  up 
with  great  alacrity,  and  looked  at  me,  I  am 
tempted  to  think,  with  marked  approval. 
*  Come  along,' .was  all  he  said,  however;  and 
was  pretty  silent  all  the  way  to  his  house.  My 
Mary  (as  he  calls  her  in  public,  and  I  in  private) 
was  summoned,  and  we  proceeded  to  the  room. 
The  Doctor  had  gone  so  far  as  to  tell  her  that 
he  had  had  something  of  a  fright  there  last 
night,  of  what  nature  he  had  not  yet  divulged ; 
but  now  he  pointed  out  and  described,  very 
briefly,  the  incidents  of  his  progress.  When  we 
were  near  the  important  spot,  he  pulled  up, 
and  allowed  me  to  pass  on.  '  There's  the  room,' 
he  said.  '  Go  in,  Spearman,  and  tell  us  what 
you  find.'  Whatever  I  might  have  felt  at 
midnight,  noonday  I  was  sure  would  keep 
back  anything  sinister,  and  I  flung  the  door 
open  with  an  air  and  stepped  in.  It  was  a 
well-lighted  room,  with  its  large  window  on 
the  right,  though  not,  I  thought,  a  very  airy 
one.  The  principal  piece  of  furniture  was  the 
gaunt  old  press  of  dark  wood.  There  was,  too, 


36  A  THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

a  four-post  bedstead,  a  mere  skeleton  which 
could  hide  nothing,  and  there  was  a  chest  of 
drawers.  On  the  window-sill  and  the  floor  near 
it  were  the  dead  bodies  of  many  hundred  sawflies, 
and  one  torpid  one  which  I  had  some  satis- 
faction in  killing.  I  tried  the  door  of  the  press, 
but  could  not  open  it :  the  drawers,  too,  were 
locked.  Somewhere,  I  was  conscious,  there  was 
a  faint  rustling  sound,  but  I  could  not  locate 
it,  and  when  I  made  my  report  to  those  out- 
side, I  said  nothing  of  it.  But,  I  said,  clearly 
the  next  thing  was  to  see  what  was  in  those 
locked  receptacles.  Uncle  Oldys  turned  to 
Mary.  4  Mrs.  Maple,'  he  said,  and  Mary  ran 
off — no  one,  I  am  sure,  steps  like  her — and  soon 
came  back  at  a  soberer  pace,  with  an  elderly 
lady  of  discreet  aspect. 

"  '  Have  you  the  keys  of  these  things,  Mrs. 
Maple  ?  '  said  Uncle  Oldys.  His  simple  words 
let  loose  a  torrent  (not  violent,  but  copious) 
of  speech :  had  she  been  a  shade  or  two  higher 
in  the  social  scale,  Mrs.  Maple  might  have  stood 
as  the  model  for  Miss  Bates. 

"  '  Oh,  Doctor,  and  Miss,  and  you  too,  sir,'  she 
said,  acknowledging  my  presence  with  a  bend, 
'  them  keys  !  who  was  that  again  that  come 
when  first  we  took  over  things  in  this  house — a 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    37 

gentleman  in  business  it  was,  and  I  gave  him 
his  luncheon  in  the  small  parlour  on  account  of 
us  not  having  everything  as  we  should  like  to 
see  it  in  the  large  one — chicken,  and  apple-pie, 
and  a  glass  of  madeira — dear,  dear,  you'll  say 
I'm  running  on,  Miss  Mary  ;  but  I  only  mention 
it  to  bring  back  my  recollection ;  and  there  it 
comes — Gardner,  just  the  same  as  it  did  last 
week  with  the  artichokes  and  the  text  of  the 
sermon.  Now  that  Mr.  Gardner,  every  key  I 
got  from  him  were  labelled  to  itself,  and  each 
and  every  one  was  a  key  of  some  door  or  another 
in  this  house,  and  sometimes  two  ;  and  when  I 
say  door,  my  meaning  is  door  of  a  room,  not 
like  such  a  press  as  this  is.  Yes,  Miss  Mary,  I 
know  full  well,  and  I'm  just  making  it  clear 
to  your  uncle  and  you  too,  sir.  But  now  there 
was  a  box  which  this  same  gentleman  he  give 
over  into  my  charge,  and  thinking  no  harm 
after  he  was  gone  I  took  the  liberty,  knowing 
it  was  your  uncle's  property,  to  rattle  it :  and 
unless  I'm  most  surprisingly  deceived,  in  that 
box  there  was  keys,  but  what  keys,  that,  Doctor, 
is  known  Elsewhere,  for  open  the  box,  no  that 
I  would  not  do.' 

4 1  wondered  that  Uncle  Oldys  remained  as 
quiet  as  he  did  under  this  address.     Mary,  I 


38          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

knew,  was  amused  by  it,  and  he  probably  had 
been  taught  by  experience  that  it  was  useless 
to  break  in  upon  it.  At  any  rate  he  did  not, 
but  merely  said  at  the  end,  '  Have  you  that 
box  handy,  Mrs.  Maple  ?  If  so,  you  might 
bring  it  here.'  Mrs.  Maple  pointed  her  ringer 
at  him,  either  in  accusation  or  in  gloomy  tri- 
umph. '  There,'  she  said,  '  was  I  to  choose 
out  the  very  words  out  of  your  mouth,  Doctor, 
them  would  be  the  ones.  And  if  I've  took  it 
to  my  own  rebuke  one  half-a-dozen  times,  it's 
been  nearer  fifty.  Laid  awake  I  have  in  my 
bed,  sat  down  in  my  chair  I  have,  the  same  you 
and  Miss  Mary  gave  me  the  day  I  was  twenty 
year  in  your  service,  and  no  person  could  desire 
a  better — yes,  Miss  Mary,  but  it  is  the  truth, 
and  well  we  know  who  it  is  would  have  it  different 
if  he  could.  "  All  very  well,"  says  I  to  myself, 
"  but  pray,  when  the  Doctor  calls  you  to  account 
for  that  box,  what  are  you  going  to  say  ?  " 
No,  Doctor,  if  you  was  some  masters  I've  heard 
of  and  I  was  some  servants  I  could  name,  I 
should  have  an  easy  task  before  me,  but  things 
being,  humanly  speaking,  what  they  are,  the 
one  course  open  to  me  is  just  to  say  to  you  that 
without  Miss  Mary  comes  to  my  room  and  helps 
me  to  my  recollection,  which  her  wits  may 


THE   RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    39 

manage  what's  slipped  beyond  mine,  no  such 
box  as  that,  small  though  it  be,  will  cross  your 
eyes  this  many  a  day  to  come.' 

"  '  Why,  dear  Mrs.  Maple,  why  didn't  you  tell 
me  before  that  you  wanted  me  to  help  you  to 
find  it  ?  '  said  my  Mary.  '  No,  never  mind 
telling  me  why  it  was  :  let  us  come  at  once  and 
look  for  it.'  They  hastened  off  together.  I 
could  hear  Mrs.  Maple  beginning  an  explanation 
which,  I  doubt  not,  lasted  into  the  furthest 
recesses  of  the  housekeeper's  department.  Uncle 
Oldys  and  I  were  left  alone.  '  A  valuable  ser- 
vant,' he  said,  nodding  towards  the  door. 
'  Nothing  goes  wrong  under  her  :  the  speeches 
are  seldom  over  three  minutes.'  '  How  will 
Miss  Oldys  manage  to  make  her  remember 
about  the  box  ?  '  I  asked. 

;; '  Mary  ?  Oh,  she'll  make  her  sit  down  and 
ask  her  about  her  aunt's  last  illness,  or  who  gave 
her  the  china  dog  on  the  mantel-piece — some- 
thing quite  off  the  point.  Then,  as  Maple  says, 
one  thing  brings  up  another,  and  the  right  one 
will  come  round  sooner  than  you  could  suppose. 
There  !  I  believe  I  hear  them  coming  back 
already.' 

"  It  was  indeed  so,  and  Mrs.  Maple  was  hurry- 
ing on  ahead  of  Mary  with  the  box  in  her  out- 


40  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

stretched  hand,  and  a  beaming  face.  *  What 
was  it,'  she  cried  as  she  drew  near,  *  what  was 
it  as  I  said,  before  ever  I  come  out  of  Dorset- 
shire to  this  place  ?  Not  that  I'm  a  Dorset 
woman  myself,  nor  had  need  to  be.  "  Safe  bind, 
safe  find,"  and  there  it  was  in  the  place  where 
I'd  put  it — what  ? — two  months  back,  I  daresay.' 
She  handed  it  to  Uncle  Oldys,  and  he  and  I 
examined  it  with  some  interest,  so  that  I  ceased 
to  pay  attention  to  Mrs.  Ann  Maple  for  the 
moment,  though  I  know  that  she  went  on  to 
expound  exactly  where  the  box  had  been,  and 
in  what  way  Mary  had  helped  to  refresh  her 
memory  on  the  subject. 

"  It  was  an  oldish  box,  tied  with  pink  tape 
and  sealed,  and  on  the  lid  was  pasted  a  label  in- 
scribed in  old  ink,  '  The  Senior  Prebendary's 
House,  Whitminster.'  On  being  opened  it 
was  found  to  contain  two  keys  of  moderate 
size,  and  a  paper,  on  which,  in  the  same  hand 
as  the  label,  was  '  Keys  of  the  Press  and  Box 
of  Drawers  standing  in  the  disused  Chamber.' 
Also  this  :  '  The  Effects  in  this  Press  and  Box 
are  held  by  me,  and  to  be  held  by  my  successors 
in  the  Residence,  in  trust  for  the  noble  Family 
of  Kildonan,  if  claim  be  made  by  any  survivor 
of  it.  I  having  made  all  the  Enquiry  possible 


THE   RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    41 

to  myself  am  of  the  opinion  that  that  noble 
House  is  wholly  extinct :  the  last  Earl  having 
been,  as  is  notorious,  cast  away  at  sea,  and  his 
only  Child  and  Heire  deceas'd  in  my  House 
(the  Papers  as  to  which  melancholy  Casualty 
were  by  me  repos'd  in  the  same  Press  in  this 
year  of  our  Lord  1753,  21  March).  I  am  further 
of  opinion  that  unless  grave  discomfort  arise, 
such  persons,  not  being  of  the  Family  of  Kil- 
donan,  as  shall  become  possess' d  of  these  keys, 
will  be  well  advised  to  leave  matters  as  they 
are  :  which  opinion  I  do  not  express  without 
weighty  and  sufficient  reason  ;  and  am  Happy 
to  have  my  Judgment  confirm'd  by  the  other 
Members  of  this  College  and  Church  who  are 
conversant  with  the  Events  referr'd  to  in  this 
Paper.  Tho.  Ashton,  S.T.P.,  Prceb.  senr.  Will. 
Blake,  S.T.P.,  Decanus.  Hen.  Goodman,  S.T.B., 
Prceb.  junr.' 

"  '  Ah  ! '  said  Uncle  Oldys,  '  grave  discom- 
fort !  So  he  thought  there  might  be  something. 
I  suspect  it  was  that  young  man,'  he  went  on, 
pointing  with  the  key  to  the  line  about  the 
'only  Child  and  Heire.'  'Eh,  Mary?  The 
viscounty  of  Kildonan  was  Saul.'  '  How  do 
you  know  that,  Uncle  ? '  said  Mary.  '  Oh, 
why  not  ?  it's  all  in  Debrett — two  little  fat 


42 

books.  But  I  meant  the  tomb  by  the  lime 
walk.  He's  there.  What's  the  story,  I  wonder  ? 
Do  you  know  it,  Mrs.  Maple  ?  and,  by  the 
way,  look  at  your  sawflies  by  the  window  there.' 

"  Mrs.  Maple,  thus  confronted  with  two  sub- 
jects at  once,  was  a  little  put  to  it  to  do  justice 
to  both.  It  was  no  doubt  rash  in  Uncle  Oldys 
to  give  her  the  opportunity.  I  could  only  guess 
that  he  had  some  slight  hesitation  about  using 
the  key  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"'Oh  them  flies,  how  bad  they  was,  Doctor  and 
Miss,  this  three  or  four  days  :  and  you,  too,  sir, 
you  wouldn't  guess,  none  of  you  !  And  how 
they  come,  too  !  First  we  took  the  room  in 
hand,  the  shutters  was  up,  and  had  been,  I 
daresay,  years  upon  years,  and  not  a  fly  to 
be  seen.  Then  we  got  the  shutter  bars  down 
with  a  deal  of  trouble  and  left  it  so  for  the 
day,  and  next  day  I  sent  Susan  in  with  the 
broom  to  sweep  about,  and  not  two  minutes 
hadn't  passed  when  out  she  come  into  the  hall 
like  a  blind  thing,  and  we  had  regular  to 
beat  them  off  her.  Why  her  cap  and  her  hair, 
you  couldn't  see  the  colour  of  it,  I  do  assure 
you,  and  all  clustering  round  her  eyes,  too. 
Fortunate  enough  she's  not  a  girl  with  fancies, 
else  if  it  had  been  me,  why  only  the  tickling  of 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    43 

the  nasty  things  would  have  drove  me  out  of 
my  wits.  And  now  there  they  lay  like  so  many 
dead  things.  Well,  they  was  lively  enough 
on  the  Monday,  and  now  here's  Thursday, 
is  it,  or  no,  Friday.  Only  to  come  near  the 
door  and  you'd  hear  them  pattering  up  against 
it,  and  once  you  opened  it,  dash  at  you,  they 
would,  as  if  they'd  eat  you.  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  to  myself,  "  If  you  was  bats,  where 
should  we  be  this  night  ?  "  Nor  you  can't 
cresh  'em,  not  like  a  usual  kind  of  a  fly.  Well, 
there's  something  to  be  thankful  for,  if  we  could 
but  learn  by  it.  And  then  this  tomb,  too,'  she 
said,  hastening  on  to  her  second  point  to  elude 
any  chance  of  interruption,  'of  them  two 
poor  young  lads.  I  say  poor,  and  yet  when  I 
recollect  myself,  I  was  at  tea  with  Mrs.  Simpkins, 
the  sexton's  wife,  before  you  come,  Doctor  and 
Miss  Mary,  and  that's  a  family  has  been  in  the 
place,  what  ?  I  daresay  a  hundred  years  in 
that  very  house,  and  could  put  their  hand  on 
any  tomb  or  yet  grave  in  all  the  yard  and  give 
you  name  and  age.  And  his  account  of  that 
young  man,  Mr.  Simpkins's  I  mean  to  say — 
well ! '  She  compressed  her  lips  and  nodded 
several  times.  '  Tell  us,  Mrs.  Maple,'  said 
Mary.  '  Go  on,'  said  Uncle  Oldys.  '  What 


44  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

about  him  ? '  said  I.  '  Never  was  such  a 
thing  seen  in  this  place,  not  since  Queen  Mary's 
times  and  the  Pope  and  all/  said  Mrs.  Maple. 
'  Why,  do  you  know  he  lived  in  this  very  house, 
him  and  them  that  was  with  him,  and  for  all 
I  can  tell  in  this  identical  room '  (she  shifted 
her  feet  uneasily  on  the  floor).  *  Who  was  with 
him  ?  Do  you  mean  the  people  of  the  house  ?  ' 
said  Uncle  Oldys  suspiciously.  '  Not  to  call 
people,  Doctor,  dear  no,'  was  the  answer ; 
4  more  what  he  brought  with  him  from  Ireland, 
I  believe  it  was.  No,  the  people  in  the  house 
was  the  last  to  hear  anything  of  his  goings-on. 
But  in  the  town  not  a  family  but  knew  how 
he  stopped  out  at  night :  and  them  that  was 
with  him,  why  they  were  such  as  would  strip 
the  skin  from  the  child  in  its  grave ;  and  a 
withered  heart  makes  an  ugly  thin  ghost,  says 
Mr.  Simpkins.  But  they  turned  on  him  at 
the  last,  he  says,  and  there's  the  mark  still 
to  be  seen  on  the  minster  door  where  they 
run  him  down.  And  that's  no  more  than  the 
truth,  for  I  got  him  to  show  it  to  myself,  and 
that's  what  he  said.  A  lord  he  was,  with  a 
Bible  name  of  a  wicked  king,  whatever  his 
godfathers  could  have  been  thinking  of.'  '  Saul 
was  the  name,'  said  Uncle  Oldys.  '  To  be  sure 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER     45 

it  was  Saul,  Doctor,  and  thank  you ;  and 
now  isn't  it  King  Saul  that  we  read  of  raising 
up  the  dead  ghost  that  was  slumbering  in  its 
tomb  till  he  disturbed  it,  and  isn't  that  a  strange 
thing,  this  young  lord  to  have  such  a  name, 
and  Mr.  Simpkins's  grandfather  to  see  him  out 
of  his  window  of  a  dark  night  going  about  from 
one  grave  to  another  in  the  yard  with  a  candle, 
and  them  that  was  with  him  following  through 
the  grass  at  his  heels  :  and  one  night  him  to 
come  right  up  to  old  Mr.  Simpkins's  window 
that  gives  on  the  yard  and  press  his  face  up 
against  it  to  find  out  if  there  was  any  one  in 
the  room  that  could  see  him  :  and  only  just 
time  there  was  for  old  Mr.  Simpkins  to  drop 
down  like,  quiet,  just  under  the  window  and 
hold  his  breath,  and  not  stir  till  he  heard  him 
stepping  away  again,  and  this  rustling-like  in 
the  grass  after  him  as  he  went,  and  then  when 
he  looked  out  of  his  window  in  the  morning  there 
was  treadings  in  the  grass  and  a  dead  man's 
bone.  Oh,  he  was  a  cruel  child  for  certain,  but 
he  had  to  pay  in  the  end,  and  after.'  '  After  ?  ' 
said  Uncle  Oldys,  with  a  frown.  '  Oh  yes, 
Doctor,  night  after  night  in  old  Mr.  Simpkins's 
time,  and  his  son,  that's  our  Mr.  Simpkins's 
father,  yes,  and  our  own  Mr.  Simpkins  too. 


46          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

Up  against  that  same  window,  particular  when 
they've  had  a  fire  of  a  chilly  evening,  with  his 
face  right  on  the  panes,  and  his  hands  fluttering 
out,  and  his  mouth  open  and  shut,  open  and 
shut,  for  a  minute  or  more,  and  then  gone  off 
in  the  dark  yard.  But  open  the  window  at 
such  times,  no,  that  they  dare  not  do,  though 
they  could  find  it  in  their  heart  to  pity  the  poor 
thing,  that  pinched  up  with  the  cold,  and 
seemingly  fading  away  to  a  nothink  as  the 
years  passed  on.  Well,  indeed,  I  believe  it  is 
no  more  than  the  truth  what  our  Mr.  Simpkins 
says  on  his  own  grandfather's  word,  "  A 
withered  heart  makes  an  ugly  thin  ghost." 
'  I  daresay,'  said  Uncle  Oldys  suddenly :  so 
suddenly  that  Mrs.  Maple  stopped  short. 
'  Thank  you.  Come  away,  all  of  you.'  c  Why, 
Uncle,'  said  Mary,  *  are  you  not  going  to  open 
the  press  after  all  ?  '  Uncle  Oldys  blushed, 
actually  blushed.  c  My  dear,'  he  said,  '  you 
are  at  liberty  to  call  me  a  coward,  or  applaud 
me  as  a  prudent  man,  whichever  you  please. 
But  I  am  neither  going  to  open  that  press  nor 
that  chest  of  drawers  myself,  nor  am  I  going 
to  hand  over  the  keys  to  you  or  to  any  other 
person.  Mrs.  Maple,  will  you  kindly  see  about 
getting  a  man  or  two  to  move  those  pieces  of 


THE  RESIDENCE  AT  WHITMINSTER    47 

furniture  into  the  garret  ?  '  '  And  when  they 
do  it,  Mrs.  Maple,'  said  Mary,  who  seemed  to 
me — I  did  not  then  know  why — more  relieved 
than  disappointed  by  her  uncle's  decision,  '  I 
have  something  that  I  want  put  with  the 
rest ;  only  quite  a  small  packet.' 

'  We  left  that  curious  room  not  unwillingly, 
I  think.  Uncle  Oldys's  orders  were  carried 
out  that  same  day.  And  so,"  concludes  Mr. 
Spearman,  "  Whitminster  has  a  Bluebeard's 
chamber,  and,  I  am  rather  inclined  to  suspect,  a 
Jack-in-the-box,  awaiting  some  future  occupant 
of  the  residence  of  the  senior  prebendary." 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.  POYNTER 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER 

THE  sale-room  of  an  old  and  famous  firm 
of  book  auctioneers  in  London  is,  of  course, 
a  great  meeting-place  for  collectors,  librarians, 
dealers :  not  only  when  an  auction  is  in 
progress,  but  perhaps  even  more  notably 
when  books  that  are  coming  on  for  sale  are 
upon  view.  It  was  in  such  a  sale-room  that  the 
remarkable  series  of  events  began  which  were 
detailed  to  me  not  many  months  ago  by  the 
person  whom  they  principally  affected,  namely, 
Mr.  James  Denton,  M.A.,  F.S.A.,  etc.,  etc., 
some  time  of  Trinity  Hall,  now,  or  lately,  of 
Rendcomb  Manor  in  the  county  of  Warwick. 
He,  on  a  certain  spring  day  not  many  years 
since,  was  in  London  for  a  few  days  upon  busi- 
ness connected  principally  with  the  furnishing 
of  the  house  which  he  had  just  finished  building 
at  Rendcomb.  It  may  be  a  disappointment  to 
you  to  learn  that  Rendcomb  Manor  was  new ; 
that  I  cannot  help.  There  had,  no  doubt,  been 
an  old  house ;  but  it  was  not  remarkable  for 

61 


52  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

beauty  or  interest.  Even  had  it  been,  neither 
beauty  nor  interest  would  have  enabled  it  to 
resist  the  disastrous  fire  which  about  a  couple 
of  years  before  the  date  of  my  story  had  razed 
it  to  the  ground.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  all 
that  was  most  valuable  in  it  had  been  saved, 
and  that  it  was  fully  insured.  So  that  it  was 
with  a  comparatively  light  heart  that  Mr. 
Denton  was  able  to  face  the  task  of  building 
a  new  and  considerably  more  convenient  dwell- 
ing for  himself  and  his  aunt  who  constituted 
his  whole  menage. 

Being  in  London,  with  time  on  his  hands,  and 
not  far  from  the  sale-room  at  which  I  have 
obscurely  hinted,  Mr.  Denton  thought  that  he 
would  spend  an  hour  there  upon  the  chance  of 
finding,  among  that  portion  of  the  famous 
Thomas  collection  of  MSS.,  which  he  knew  to 
be  then  on  view,  something  bearing  upon  the 
history  or  topography  of  his  part  of  Warwick- 
shire. 

He  turned  in  accordingly,  purchased  a  cata- 
logue and  ascended  to  the  sale-room,  where, 
as  usual,  the  books  were  disposed  in  cases 
and  some  laid  out  upon  the  long  tables.  At 
the  shelves,  or  sitting  about  at  the  tables,  were 
figures,  many  of  whom  were  familiar  to  him. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         58 

He  exchanged  nods  and  greetings  with  several, 
and  then  settled  down  to  examine  his  catalogue 
and  note  likely  items.  He  had  made  good 
progress  through  about  two  hundred  of  the 
five  hundred  lots — every  now  and  then  rising 
to  take  a  volume  from  the  shelf  and  give  it  a 
cursory  glance — when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his 
shoulder,  and  he  looked  up.  His  interrupter 
was  one  of  those  intelligent  men  with  a  pointed 
beard  and  a  flannel  shirt,  of  whom  the  last 
quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  was,  it  seems 
to  me,  very  prolific. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  repeat  the  whole 
conversation  which  ensued  between  the  two. 
I  must  content  myself  with  stating  that  it  largely 
referred  to  common  acquaintances,  e.g.,  to  the 
nephew  of  Mr.  Denton's  friend  who  had  recently 
married  and  settled  in  Chelsea,  to  the  sister-in- 
law  of  Mr.  Denton's  friend  who  had  been 
seriously  indisposed,  but  was  now  better,  and 
to  a  piece  of  china  which  Mr.  Denton's  friend 
had  purchased  some  months  before  at  a  price 
much  below  its  true  value.  From  which  you  will 
rightly  infer  that  the  conversation  was  rather 
in  the  nature  of  a  monologue.  In  due  time, 
however,  the  friend  bethought  himself  that 
Mr.  Denton  was  there  for  a  purpose,  and  said 


54  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

he,  "  What  are  you  looking  out  for  in  particu- 
lar ?  I  don't  think  there's  much  in  this  lot." 
"  Why,  I  thought  there  might  be  some  War- 
wickshire collections,  but  I  don't  see  anything 
under  Warwick  in  the  catalogue."  "  No,  appa- 
rently not,"  said  the  friend.  "  All  the  same, 
I  believe  I  noticed  something  like  a  Warwick- 
shire diar}^.  What  was  the  name  again  ? 
Drayton  ?  Potter  ?  Painter — either  a  P  or  a 
D,  I  feel  sure."  He  turned  over  the  leaves 
quickly.  "  Yes,  here  it  is.  Poynter.  Lot  486. 
That  might  interest  you.  There  are  the  books, 
I  think  :  out  on  the  table.  Some  one  has  been 
looking  at  them.  Well,  I  must  be  getting  on. 
Good-bye,  you'll  look  us  up,  won't  you  ? 
Couldn't  you  come  this  afternoon  ?  we've  got 
a  little  music  about  four.  Well,  then,  when 
you're  next  in  town."  He  went  off.  Mr. 
Denton  looked  at  his  watch  and  found  to  his 
confusion  that  he  could  spare  no  more  than  a 
moment  before  retrieving  his  luggage  and  going 
for  the  train.  The  moment  was  just  enough  to 
show  him  that  there  were  four  largish  volumes 
of  the  diary — that  it  concerned  the  years  about 
1710,  and  that  there  seemed  to  be  a  good  many 
insertions  in  it  of  various  kinds.  It  seemed 
quite  worth  while  to  leave  a  commission  of 


THE   DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER          55 

five  and  twenty  pounds  for  it,  and  this  he 
was  able  to  do,  for  his  usual  agent  entered  the 
room  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  it. 

That  evening  he  rejoined  his  aunt  at  their 
temporary  abode,  which  was  a  small  dower- 
house  not  many  hundred  yards  from  the  Manor. 
On  the  following  morning  the  two  resumed  a 
discussion  that  had  now  lasted  for  some  weeks 
as  to  the  equipment  of  the  new  house.  Mr. 
Denton.  laid  before  his  relative  a  statement  of 
the  results  of  his  visit  to  town — particulars  of 
carpets,  of  chairs,  of  wardrobes,  and  of  bedroom 
china.  "  Yes,  dear,"  said  his  aunt,  "  but  I 
don't  see  any  chintzes  here.  Did  you  go  to 
— ?  "  Mr.  Dentori  stamped  on  the  floor  (where 
else,  indeed,  could  he  have  stamped  ?).  "Oh 
dear,  oh  dear,"  he  said,  "  the  one  thing  I  missed. 
I  am  sorry.  The  fact  is  I  was  on  my  way  there 
and  I  happened  to  be  passing  Robins's."  His 
aunt  threw  up  her  hands.  "  Robins's  !  Then 
the  next  thing  will  be  another  parcel  of  horrible 
old  books  at  some  outrageous  price.  I  do 
think,  James,  when  I  am  taking  all  this  trouble 
for  you,  you  might  contrive  to  remember  the 
one  or  two  things  which  I  specially  begged 
you  to  see  after.  It's  not  as  if  I  was  asking  it 
for  myself.  I  don't  know  whether  you  think 


56          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

I  get  any  pleasure  out  of  it,  but  if  so  I  can 
assure  you  it's  very  much  the  reverse.  The 
thought  and  worry  and  trouble  I  have  over  it 
you  have  no  idea  of,  and  you  have  simply  to 
go  to  the  shops  and  order  the  things."  Mr. 
Denton  interposed  a  moan  of  penitence.  "  Oh, 

aunt "     "  Yes,   that's  all  very  well,   dear, 

and  I  don't  want  to  speak  sharply,  but  you 
must  know  how  very  annoying  it  is  :  particu- 
larly as  it  delays  the  whole  of  our  business  for 
I  can't  tell  how  long :  here  is  Wednesday — 
the  Simpsons  come  to-morrow,  and  you  can't 
leave  them.  Then  on  Saturday  we  have  friends, 
as  you  know,  coming  for  tennis.  Yes,  indeed, 
you  spoke  of  asking  them  yourself,  but,  of 
course,  I  had  to  write  the  notes,  and  it  is  ridicu- 
lous, James,  to  look  like  that.  We  must 
occasionally  be  civil  to  our  neighbours  :  you 
wouldn't  like  to  have  it  said  we  were  perfect 
bears.  What  was  I  saying  ?  Well,  anyhow 
it  comes  to  this,  that  it  must  be  Thursday  in 
next  week  at  least,  before  you  can  go  to  town 
again,  and  until  we  have  decided  upon  the 
chintzes  it  is  impossible  to  settle  upon  one 
single  other  thing." 

Mr.  Denton  ventured  to  suggest  that  as  the 
paint   and   wallpapers   had   been   dealt   with, 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         57 

this  was  too  severe  a  view :  but  this  his  aunt 
was  not  prepared  to  admit  at  the  moment. 
Nor,  indeed,  was  there  any  proposition  he  could 
have  advanced  which  she  would  have  found 
herself  able  to  accept.  However,  as  the  day 
went  on,  she  receded  a  little  from  this  position  : 
examined  with  lessening  disfavour  the  samples 
and  price  lists  submitted  by  her  nephew,  and 
even  in  some  cases  gave  a  qualified  approval 
to  his  choice. 

As  for  him,  he  was  naturally  somewhat 
dashed  by  the  consciousness  of  duty  unfulfilled, 
but  more  so  by  the  prospect  of  a  lawn-tennis 
party,  which,  though  an  inevitable  evil  in 
August,  he  had  thought  there  was  no  occasion 
to  fear  in  May.  But  he  was  to  some  extent 
cheered  by  the  arrival  on  the  Friday  morning 
of  an  intimation  that  he  had  secured  at  the 
price  of  £12  10s.  the  four  volumes  of  Poynter's 
manuscript  diary,  and  still  more  by  the  arrival 
on  the  next  morning  of  the  diary  itself. 

The  necessity  of  taking  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simpson 
for  a  drive  in  the  car  on  Saturday  morning 
and  of  attending  to  his  neighbours  and  guests 
that  afternoon  prevented  him  from  doing  more 
than  open  the  parcel  until  the  party  had  retired 
to  bed  on  the  Saturday  night.  It  was  then 


58          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

that  he  made  certain  of  the  fact,  which  he  had 
before  only  suspected,  that  he  had  indeed 
acquired  the  diary  of  Mr.  William  Poynter, 
Squire  of  Acrington  (about  four  miles  from  his 
own  parish) — that  same  Poynter  who  was  for 
a  time  a  member  of  the  circle  of  Oxford  anti- 
quaries, the  centre  of  which  was  Thomas  Hearne, 
and  with  whom  Hearne  seems  ultimately  to 
have  quarrelled — a  not  uncommon  episode  in 
the  career  of  that  excellent  man.  As  is  the 
case  with  Hearne's  own  collections,  the  diary  of 
Poynter  contained  a  good  many  notes  from 
printed  books,  descriptions  of  coins  and  other 
antiquities  that  had  been  brought  to  his  notice, 
and  drafts  of  letters  on  these  subjects, 
besides  the  chronicle  of  everyday  events.  The 
description  in  the  sale-catalogue  had  given  Mr. 
Denton  no  idea  of  the  amount  of  interest  which 
seemed  to  lie  in  the  book,  and  he  sat  up  reading 
in  the  first  of  the  four  volumes  until  a  repre- 
hensibly  late  hour. 

On  the  Sunday  morning,  after  church,  his 
aunt  came  into  the  study  and  was  diverted 
from  what  she  had  been  going  to  say  to  him 
by  the  sight  of  the  four  brown  leather  quartos 
011  the  table.  "  What  are  these  ?  "  she  said 
suspiciously.  "  New,  aren't  they  ?  Oh  !  are 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         59 

these  the  things  that  made  you  forget  my 
chintzes  ?  I  thought  so.  Disgusting.  What 
did  you  give  for  them,  I  should  like  to  know  ? 
Over  Ten  Pounds  ?  James,  it  is  really  sinful. 
Well,  if  you  have  money  to  throw  away  on 
this  kind  of  thing,  there  can  be  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  subscribe — and  subscribe  hand- 
somely— to  my  anti- Vivisection  League.  There 
is  not,  indeed,  James,  and  I  shall  be  very 

seriously   annoyed  if .     Who  did  you  say 

wrote  them  ?  Old  Mr.  Poynter,  of  Acrington  ? 
Well,  of  course,  there  is  some  interest  in  getting 
together  old  papers  about  this  neighbourhood. 
But  Ten  Pounds  ! 5:  She  picked  up  one  of 
the  volumes — not  that  which  her  nephew  had 
been  reading — and  opened  it  at  random,  dashing 
it  to  the  floor  the  next  instant  with  a  cry  of 
disgust  as  a  earwig  fell  from  between  the  pages. 
Mr.  Denton  picked  it  up  with  a  smothered 
expletive  and  said,  "  Poor  book  !  I  think  you're 
rather  hard  on  Mr.  Poynter."  "  Was  I,  my 
dear  ?  I  beg  his  pardon,  but  you  know  I  cannot 
abide  those  horrid  creatures.  Let  me  see  if  I've 
done  any  mischief."  "  No,  I  think  all's  well : 
but  look  here  what  you've  opened  him  on." 
"Dear  me,  yes,  to  be  sure !  how  very  interesting. 
Do  unpin  it,  James,  and  let  me  look  at  it." 


60          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

It  was  a  piece  of  patterned  stuff  about  the 
size  of  the  quarto  page,  to  which  it  was  fastened 
by  an  old-fashioned  pin.  James  detached  it 
and  handed  it  to  his  aunt,  carefully  replacing 
the  pin  in  the  paper. 

Now,  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  the  fabric 
was ;  but  it  had  a  design  printed  upon  it, 
which  completely  fascinated  Miss  Denton.  She 
went  into  raptures  over  it,  held  it  against  the 
wall,  made  James  do  the  same,  that  she  might 
retire  to  contemplate  it  from  a  distance  :  then 
pored  over  it  at  close  quarters,  and  ended  her 
examination  by  expressing  in  the  warmest 
terms  her  appreciation  of  the  taste  of  the 
ancient  Mr.  Poynter  who  had  had  the  happy 
idea  of  preserving  this  sample  in  his  diary. 
"It  is  a  most  charming  pattern,"  she  said, 
"  and  remarkable  too.  Look,  James,  how  de- 
lightfully the  lines  ripple.  It  reminds  one  of 
hair,  very  much,  doesn't  it.  And  then  these 
knots  of  ribbon  at  intervals.  They  give  just 
the  relief  of  colour  that  is  wanted.  I  wonder— 
"  I  was  going  to  say,"  said  James  with  deference, 
"  I  wonder  if  it  would  cost  much  to  have  it 
copied  for  our  curtains."  "  Copied  ?  how  could 
you  have  it  copied,  James  ?  "  "  Well,  I  don't 
know  the  details,  but  I  suppose  that  is  a  printed 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         61 

pattern,  and  that  you  could  have  a  block  cut 
from  it  in  wood  or  metal."  "  Now,  really, 
that  is  a  capital  idea,  James.  I  am  almost 
inclined  to  be  glad  that  you  were  so — that  you 
forgot  the  chintzes  on  Monday.  At  any  rate, 
I'll  promise  to  forgive  and  forget  if  you  get  this 
lovely  old  thing  copied.  No  one  will  have 
anything  in  the  least  like  it,  and  mind,  James, 
we  won't  allow  it  to  be  sold.  Now  I  must  go, 
and  I've  totally  forgotten  what  it  was  I  came 
in  to  say :  never  mind,  it'll  keep." 

After  his  aunt  had  gone  James  Denton  devoted 
a  few  minutes  to  examining  the  pattern  more 
closely  than  he  had  yet  had  a  chance  of  doing. 
He  was  puzzled  to  think  why  it  should  have 
struck  Miss  Denton  so  forcibly.  It  seemed  to 
him  not  specially  remarkable  or  pretty.  No 
doubt  it  was  suitable  enough  for  a  curtain 
pattern  :  it  ran  in  vertical  bands,  and  there 
was  some  indication  that  these  were  intended 
to  converge  at  the  top.  She  was  right,  too,  in 
thinking  that  these  main  bands  resembled 
rippling — almost  curling — tresses  of  hair.  Well, 
the  main  thing  was  to  find  out  by  means  of 
trade  directories,  or  otherwise,  what  firm  would 
undertake  the  reproduction  of  an  old  pattern 
of  this  kind.  Not  to  delay  the  reader  over 


62  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

this  portion  of  the  story,  a  list  of  likely  names 
was  made  out,  and  Mr.  Denton  fixed  a  day  for 
calling  on  them,  or  some  of  them,  with  his 
sample. 

The  first  two  visits  which  he  paid  were  un- 
successful :  but  there  is  luck  in  odd  numbers. 
The  firm  in  Bermondsey  which  was  third  on 
his  list  was  accustomed  to  handling  this  line. 
The  evidence  they  were  able  to  produce  justi- 
fied their  being  entrusted  with  the  job.  "Our 
Mr.  Cattell "  took  a  fervent  personal  interest  in 
it.  "  It's  'eartrending,  isn't  it,  sir,"  he  said, 
"  to  picture  the  quantity  of  reelly  lovely 
medeevial  stuff  of  this  kind  that  lays  well- 
nigh  unnoticed  in  many  of  our  residential 
country  'ouses :  much  of  it  in  peril,  I  take 
it,  of  being  cast  aside  as  so  much  rubbish. 
What  is  it  Shakespeare  says — unconsidered 
trifles.  Ah,  I  often  say  he  'as  a  word  for  us 
all,  sir.  I  say  Shakespeare,  but  I'm  well  aware 
all  don't  'old  with  me  there — I  'ad  something 
of  an  upset  the  other  day  when  a  gentleman 
came  in — a  titled  man,  too,  he  was,  and  I 
think  he  told  me  he'd  wrote  on  the  topic,  and 
I  'appened  to  cite  out  something  about  'Ercules 
and  the  painted  cloth.  Dear  me,  you  never 
see  such  a  pother.  But  as  to  this,  what  you've 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         63 

kindly  confided  to  us,  it's  a  piece  of  work 
we  shall  take  a  reel  enthusiasm  in  achieving  it 
out  to  the  very  best  of  our  ability.  What  man 
'as  done,  as  I  was  observing  only  a  few  weeks 
back  to  another  esteemed  client,  man  can  do, 
and  in  three  to  four  weeks'  time,  all  being  well, 
we  shall  'ope  to  lay  before  you  evidence  to  that 
effect, .  sir.  Take  the  address,  Mr.  'Iggins,  if 
you  please." 

Such  was  the  general  drift  of  Mr.  Cattell's 
observations  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Denton.  About  a  month  later, 
being  advised  that  some  samples  were  ready 
for  his  inspection,  Mr.  Denton  met  him  again, 
and  had,  it  seems,  reason  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  faithfulness  of  the  reproduction  of  the 
design.  It  had  been  finished  off  at  the  top  in 
accordance  with  the  indication  I  mentioned,  so 
that  the  vertical  bands  joined.  But  something 
still  needed  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  matching 
the  colour  of  the  original.  Mr.  Cattell  had 
suggestions  of  a  technical  kind  to  offer,  with 
which  I  need  not  trouble  you.  He  had  also 
views  as  to  the  general  desirability  of  the  pat- 
tern which  were  vaguely  adverse.  "  You  say 
you  don't  wish  this  to  be  supplied  excepting 
to  personal  friends  equipped  with  a  authoriza- 


64  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

tion  from  yourself,  sir.  It  shall  be  done.  I 
quite  understand  your  wish  to  keep  it  exclusive  : 
lends  a  catchit,  does  it  not,  to  the  suite  ? 
What's  every  man's,  it's  been  said,  is  no  man's." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  popular  if  it 
were  generally  obtainable  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Dentqn. 

"  I  'ardly  think  it,  sir,"  said  Cattell,  pensively 
clasping  his  beard.  "  I  'ardly  think  it.  Not 
popular :  it  wasn't  popular  with  the  man  that 
cut  the  block,  was  it,  Mr.  'Iggins  ?  " 

"  Did  he  find  it  a  difficult  job  ?  " 

"  He'd  no  call  to  do  so,  sir ;  but  the  fact  is 
that  the  artistic  temperament — and  our  men 
are  artists,  sir,  every  man  of  them — true  artists 
as  much  as  many  that  the  world  styles  by  that 
term — it's  apt  to  take  some  strange  'ardly 
accountable  likes  or  dislikes,  and  here  was 
an  example.  The  twice  or  thrice  that  I  went 
to  inspect  his  progress :  language  I  could 
understand,  for  that's  'abitual  to  him,  but  reel 
distaste  for  what  I  should  call  a  dainty  enough 
thing,  I  did  not,  nor  am  I  now  able  to  fathom. 
It  seemed,"  said  Mr.  Cattell,  looking  narrowly 
upon  Mr.  Denton,  "as  if  the  man  scented 
something  almost  Hevil  in  the  design." 

"  Indeed  ?  did  he  tell  you  so  ?  I  can't  say 
I  see  anything  sinister  in  it  myself." 


THE   DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER          65 

"  Xeether  can  I,  sir.  In  fact  I  said  as  much. 
'  Come,  Gatwick,*  I  said,  '  what's  to  do  here  ? 
What's  the  reason  of  your  prejudice — for  I 
can  call  it  no  more  than  that  ? '  But,  no  ! 
no  explanation  was  forthcoming.  And  I  was 
merely  reduced,  as  I  am  now,  to  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders,  and  a  cui  bono.  However,  here 
it  is,"  and  with  that  the  technical  side  of  the 
question  came  to  the  front  again. 

The  matching  of  the  colours*  for  the  back- 
ground, the  hem,  and  the  knots  of  ribbon  was 
by  far  the  longest  part  of  the  business,  and 
necessitated  many  sendings  to  and  fro  of  the 
original  pattern  and  of  new  samples.  During 
part  of  August  and  September,  too,  the 
Dentons  were  away  from  the  Manor.  So  that 
it  was  not  until  October  was  well  in  that  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  the  stuff  had  been  manu- 
factured to  furnish  curtains  for  the  three  or  four 
bedrooms  which  were  to  be  fitted  up  with  it. 

On  the  feast  of  Simon  and  Jude  the  aunt 
and  nephew  returned  from  a  short  visit  to  find 
all  completed,  and  their  satisfaction  at  the 
general  effect  was  great.  The  new  curtains, 
in  particular,  agreed  to  admiration  with  their 
surroundings.  When  Mr.  Denton  was  dressing 
for  dinner,  and  took  stock  of  his  room,  in  which 

6 


66          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

there  was  a  large  amount  of  the  chintz  displayed, 
he  congratulated  himself  over  and  over  again 
on  the  luck  which  had  first  made  him  forget  his 
aunt's  commission  and  had  then  put  into  his 
hands  this  extremely  effective  means  of  remedy- 
ing his  mistake.  The  pattern  was,  as  he  said 
at  dinner,  so  restful  and  yet  so  far  from  being 
dull.  And  Miss  Denton — who,  by  the  way,  had 
none  of  the  stuff  in  her  own  room — was  much 
disposed  to  agree  with  him. 

At  breakfast  next  morning  he  was  induced 
to  qualify  his  satisfaction  to  some  extent— 
but  very  slightly.  "  There  is  one  thing  I  rather 
regret,"  he  said,  "  that  we  allowed  them  to 
join  up  the  vertical  bands  of  the  pattern  at  the 
top.  I  think  it  would  have  been  better  to 
leave  that  alone." 

"  Oh  ?  "  said  his  aunt  interrogatively. 

"  Yes  :  as  I  was  reading  in  bed  last  night 
they  kept  catching  my  eye  rather.  That  is,  I 
found  myself  looking  across  at  them  every  now 
and  then.  There  was  an  effect  as  if  some  one 
kept  peeping  out  between  the  curtains  in  one 
place  or  another,  where  there  was  no  edge, 
and  I  think  that  was  due  to  the  joining  up  of 
the  bands  at  the  top.  The  only  other  thing 
that  troubled  me  was  the  wind." 


THE   DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER          67 

"Why,  I  thought  it  was  a  perfectly  still 
night," 

"  Perhaps  it  was  only  on  my  side  of  the 
house,  but  there  was  enough  to  sway  my 
curtains  and  rustle  them  more  than  I  wanted." 

That  night  a  bachelor  friend  of  James  Den- 
ton's  came  to  stay,  and  was  lodged  in  a  room 
on  the  same  floor  as  his  host,  but  at  the  end  of 
a  long  passage,  halfway  down  which  was  a  red 
baize  door,  put  there  to  cut  off  the  draught 
and  intercept  noise. 

The  party  of  three  had  separated.  Miss 
Denton  a  good  first,  the  two  men  at  about 
eleven.  James  Denton,  not  yet  inclined  for 
bed,  sat  him  down  in  an  arm-chair  and  read  for 
a  time.  Then  he  dozed,  and  then  he  woke,  and 
bethought  himself  that  his  brown  spaniel,  which 
ordinarily  slept  in  his  room,  had  not  come 
upstairs  with  him.  Then  he  thought  he  was 
mistaken :  for  happening  to  move  his  hand 
which  hung  down  over  the  arm  of  the  chair 
within  a  few  inches  of  the  floor,  he  felt  on  the 
back  of  it  just  the  slightest  touch  of  a  surface 
of  hair,  and  stretching  it  out  in  that  direction 
he  stroked  and  patted  a  rounded  something. 
But  the  feel  of  it,  and  still  more  the  fact  that 
instead  of  a  responsive  movement,  absolute  still- 


68  A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

ness  greeted  his  touch,  made  him  look  over  the 
arm.  What  he  had  been  touching  rose  to  meet 
him.  It  was  in  the  attitude  of  one  that  had 
crept  along  the  floor  on  its  belly,  and  it  was, 
so  far  as  could  be  collected,  a  human  figure. 
But  of  the  face  which  was  now  rising  to  within 
a  few  inches  of  his  own  no  feature  was  dis- 
cernible, only  hair.  Shapeless  as  it  was,  there 
was  about  it  so  horrible  an  air  of  menace  that 
as  he  bounded  from  his  chair  and  rushed  from 
the  room  he  heard  himself  moaning  with  fear  : 
and  doubtless  he  did  right  to  fly.  As  he 
dashed  into  the  baize  door  that  cut  the  passage 
in  two,  and — forgetting  that  it  opened  towards 
him — beat  against  it  with  all  the  force  in  him, 
he  felt  a  soft  ineffectual  tearing  at  his  back 
which,  all  the  same,  seemed  to  be  growing  in 
power,  as  if  the  hand,  or  whatever  worse  than 
a  hand  was  there,  were  becoming  more  material 
as  the  pursuer's  rage  was  more  concentrated. 
Then  he  remembered  the  trick  of  the  door — he 
got  it  open — he  shut  it  behind  him — he  gained 
his  friend's  room,  and  that  is  all  we  need  know. 
It  seems  curious  that,  during  all  the  time  that 
had  elapsed  since  the  purchase  of  Poynter's 
diary,  James  Denton  should  not  have  sought 
an  explanation  of  the  presence  of  the  pattern 


THE   DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER          69 

that  had  been  pinned  into  it.  Well,  he  had 
rend  the  diary  through  without  finding  it  men- 
tioned, and  had  concluded  that  there  was 
nothing  to  be  said.  But,  on  leaving  Rendcomb 
Manor  (he  did  not  know  whether  for  good), 
as  he  naturally  insisted  upon  doing  on  the  day 
after  experiencing  the  horror  I  have  tried  to 
put  into  words,  he  took  the  diary  with  him. 
And  at  his  seaside  lodgings  he  examined  more 
narrowly  the  portion  whence  the  pattern  had 
been  taken.  What  he  remembered  having 
suspected  about  it  turned  out  to  be  correct. 
Two  or  three  leaves  were  pasted  together,  but 
written  upon,  as  was  patent  when  they  were 
held  up  to  the  light.  They  yielded  easily  to 
steaming,  for  the  paste  had  lost  much  of  its 
strength,  and  they  contained  something  rele- 
vant to  the  pattern. 

The  entry  was  made  in  1707. 

"  Old  Mr.  Casbury,  of  Acrington,  told  me 
this  day  much  of  young  Sir  Everard  Charlett, 
whom  he  remember'd  Commoner  of  University 
College,  and  thought  was  of  the  same  Family 
as  Dr.  Arthur  Charlett,  now  master  of  ye 
Coll.  This  Charlett  was  a  personable  young 
gent.,  but  a  loose  atheistical  companion,  and 
a  great  Lifter,  as  they  then  call'd  the  hard 


70          A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

drinkers,  and  for  what  I  know  do  so  now.  lie 
was  noted,  and  subject  to  severall  censures  at 
different  times  for  his  extravagancies  :  and  if 
the  full  history  of  his  debaucheries  had  bin 
known,  no  doubt  would  have  been  expell'd 
ye  Coll.,  supposing  that  no  interest  had  been 
imploy'd  on  his  behalf,  of  which  Mr.  Casbury 
had  some  suspicion.  He  was  a  very  beautiful 
person,  and  constantly  wore  his  own  Hair, 
which  was  very  abundant,  from  which,  and  his 
loose  way  of  living,  the  cant  name  for  him  was 
Absalom,  and  he  was  accustom'd  to  say  that 
indeed  he  believ'd  he  had  shortened  old  David's 
days,  meaning  his  father,  Sir  Job  Charlett, 
an  old  worthy  cavalier. 

"  Note  that  Mr.  Casbury  said  that  he  remem- 
bers not  the  year  of  Sir  Everard  Charlett' s 
death,  but  it  was  1692  or  3.  He  died  suddenly 
in  October.  [Several  lines  describing  his  un- 
pleasant habits  and  reputed  delinquencies  are 
omitted.]  Having  seen  him  in  such  topping 
spirits  the  night  before,  Mr.  Casbury  was  amaz'd 
when  he  learn' d  the  death.  He  was  found  in 
the  town  ditch,  the  hair  as  was  said  pluck' d 
clean  off  his  head.  Most  bells  in  Oxford  rung 
out  for  him,  being  a  nobleman,  and  he  was 
buried  next  night  in  St.  Peter's  in  the  East. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MR.   POYNTER         71 

But  two  years  after,  being  to  be  moved  to  his 
country  estate  by  his  successor,  it  was  said 
the  coffin,  breaking  by  mischance,  proved  quite 
full  of  Hair  :  which  sounds  fabulous,  but  yet 
I  believe  precedents  are  upon  record,  as  in 
Dr.  Plot's  History  of  Staffordshire. 

"  His  chambers  being  afterwards  stripp'd, 
Mr.  Casbury  came  by  part  of  the  hangings  of 
it,  which  'twas  said  this  Charlett  had  design'd 
expressly  for  a  memoriall  of  his  Hair,  giving 
the  Fellow  that  drew  it  a  lock  to  work  by, 
and  the  piece  which  I  have  fasten'd  in  here 
was  parcel  of  the  same,  which  Mr.  Casbury 
gave  to  me.  He  said  he  belie v'd  there  was  a 
subtlety  in  the  drawing,  but  had  never  dis- 
co ver'd  it  himself,  nor  much  liked  to  pore 
upon  it." 

The  money  spent  upon  the  curtains  might 
as  well  have  been  thrown  into  the  fire,  as  they 
were.  Mr.  CattelPs  comment  upon  what  he 
heard  of  the  story  took  the  form  of  a  quotation 
from  Shakespeare.  You  may  guess  it  without 
difficulty.  It  began  with  the  words  "  There 
are  more  things." 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL 
HISTORY 


rilHERE  was  once  a  learned  gentleman  who 
J-  was  deputed  to  examine  and  report  upon 
the  archives  of  the  Cathedral  of  South- 
minster.  The  examination  of  these  records 
demanded  a  very  considerable  expenditure  of 
time  :  hence  it  became  advisable  for  him  to 
engage  lodgings  in  the  city  :  for  though  the 
Cathedral  body  were  profuse  in  their  offers  of 
hospitality,  Mr.  Lake  felt  that  he  would  prefer 
to  be  master  of  his  d&y.  This  was  recognized 
as  reasonable.  The  Dean  eventually  wrote 
^advising  Mr.  Lake,  if  he  were  not  already  suited, 
to  communicate  with  Mr.  Worby,  the  principal 
Verger,  who  occupied  a  house  convenient  to 
the  church  and  was  prepared  to  take  in  a  quiet 
lodger  for  three  or  four  weeks.  Such  an 
arrangement  was  precisely  what  Mr.  Lake 
desired.  Terms  were  easily  agreed  upon,  and 
early  in  December,  like  another  Mr.  Datchery 
(as  he  remarked  to  himself),  the  investigator 
found  himself  in  the  occupation  of  a  very 


76  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

comfortable  room  in  an  ancient  and  "  cathe- 
draty  "  house. 

One  so  familiar  with  the  customs  of  Cathedral 
churches,  and  treated  with  such  obvious  con- 
sideration by  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  this 
Cathedral  in  particular,  could  not  fail  to  com- 
mand the  respect  of  the  Head  Verger.  Mr. 
Worby  even  acquiesced  in  certain  modifications 
of  statements  he  had  been  accustomed  to  offer 
for  years  to  parties  of  visitors.  Mr.  Lake,  on 
his  part,  found  the  Verger  a  very  cheery  com- 
panion, and  took  advantage  of  an}^  occasion 
that  presented  itself  for  enjoying  his  conversation 
when  the  day's  work  was  over. 

One  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Worb}^ 
knocked  at  his  lodger's  door.  "I've  occasion," 
he  said,  "to  go  across  to  the  Cathedral,  Mr. 
Lake,  and  I  think  I  made  you  a  promise  when"' 
I  did  so  next  I  would  give  you  the  opportunity 
to  see  what  it  looks  like  at  night  time.  It  is 
quite  fine  and  dry  outside,  if  you  care  to  come." 

"To  be  sure  I  will ;  very  much  obliged  to 
you,  Mr.  Worby,  for  thinking  of  it,  but  let  me 
get  my  coat." 

"  Here  it  is,  sir,  and  I've  another  lantern  here 
that  you'll  find  advisable  for  the  steps,  as 
there's  no  moon." 


AN   EPISODE   OF   CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     77 

"  Any  one  might  think  we  were  Jasper  and 
Durdles,  over  again,  mightn't  they,"  said  Lake, 
as  they  crossed  the  close,  for  he  had  ascertained 
that  the  Verger  had  read  Edwin  Drood. 

'  Well,  so  they  might,"  said  Mr.  Worby,  with 
a  short  laugh,  "  though  I  don't  know  whether 
we  ought  to  take  it  as  a  compliment.  Odd  ways, 
I  often  think,  they  had  at  that  Cathedral,  don't 
it  seem  so  to  you,  sir  ?  Full  choral  matins  at 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  all  the  year  round. 
Wouldn't  suit  our  boys'  voices  nowadays,  and 
I  think  there's  one  or  two  of  the  men  would 
be  applying  for  a  rise  if  the  Chapter  was  to 
bring  it  in — particular  the  alltoes." 

They  were  now  at  the  south-west  door.  As 
Mr.  Worby  was  unlocking  it,  Lake  said,  "  Did  you 
ever  find  anybody  locked  in  here  by  accident  ?  " 

'  Twice  I  did.  One  was  a  drunk  sailor ; 
however  he  got  in  I  don't  know.  I  s'pose  he 
went  to  sleep  in  the  service,  but  by  the  time  I 
got  to  him  he  was  praying  fit  to  bring  the  roof 
in.  Lor'  !  what  a  noise  that  man  did  make  ! 
said  it  was  the  first  time  he'd  been  inside  a 
church  for  ten  years,  and  blest  if  ever  he'd  try 
it  again.  The  other  was  an  old  sheep  :  them 
boys  it  was,  up  to  their  games.  That  was  the 
last  time  they  tried  it  on,  though.  There,  sir, 


78  A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHP^RS 

now  you  see  what  we  look  like ;  our  late  Dean 
used  now  and  again  to  bring  parties  in,  but  he 
preferred  a  moonlight  night,  and  there  was  a 
piece  of  verse  he'd  coat  to  'em,  relating  to  a 
Scotch  cathedral,  I  understand ;  but  I  don't 
know ;  I  almost  think  the  effect's  better  when 
it's  all  dark-like.  Seems  to  add  to  the  size  and 
heighth.  Now  if  you  won't  mind  stopping  some- 
where in  the  nave  while  I  go  up  into  the  choir 
where  my  business  lays,  you'll  see  what  I  mean." 

Accordingly  Lake  waited,  leaning  against  a 
pillar,  and  watched  the  light  wavering  along  the 
length  of  the  church,  and  up  the  steps  into  the 
choir,  until  it  was  intercepted  by  some  screen 
or  other  furniture,  which  only  allowed  the 
reflection  to  be  seen  on  the  piers  and  roof. 
Not  many  minutes  had  passed  before  Worby  re- 
appeared at  the  door  of  the  choir  arid  by  \vraving 
his  lantern  signalled  to  Lake  to  rejoin  him. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  Worby,  and  not  a  substitute," 
thought  Lake  to  himself,  as  he  walked  up  the 
nave.  There  was,  in  fact,  nothing  untoward. 
Worby  showed  him  the  papers  which  he  had 
come  to  fetch  out  of  the  Dean's  stall,  and  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  the  spectacle  :  Lake 
agreed  that  it  was  well  worth  seeing.  "  I 
suppose,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  towards  the 


AN7  EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     79 

altar-steps  together,  "  that  you're  too  much 
used  to  going  about  here  at  night  to  feel  nervous 
— but  you  must  get  a  start  every  now  and 
then,  don't  you,  when  a  book  falls  down  or  a 
door  swings  to." 

"  No,  Mr.  Lake,  I  can't  say  I  think  much 
about  noises,  not  nowadays:  I'm  much  more 
afraid  of  finding  an  escape  of  gas  or  a  burst 
in  the  stove  pipes  than  anything  else.  Still 
there  have  been  times,  years  ago.  Did  you 
notice  that  plain  altar-tomb  there — fifteenth 
century  we  say  it  is,  I  don't  know  if  you  agree 
to  that  ?  Well,  if  you  didn't  look  at  it,  just 
come  back  and  give  it  a  glance,  if  you'd  be  so 
good."  It  was  on  the  north  side  of  the  choir, 
and  rather  awkwardly  placed  :  only  about  three 
feet  from  the  enclosing  stone  screen.  Quite 
plain,  as  the  Verger  had  said,  but  for  some 
ordinary  stone  panelling.  A  metal  cross  of 
some  size  on  the  northern  side  (that  next  to  the 
screen)  was  the  solitary  feature  of  any  interest. 

Lake  agreed  that  it  was  not  earlier  than  the 
Perpendicular  period  :  "  but,"  he  said,  "  unless 
it's  the  tomb  of  some  remarkable  person,  you'll 
forgive  me  for  saying  that  I  don't  think  it's 
particularly  note  worth}'." 

"  Well,  I  can't  saj^  as  it  is  the  tomb  of  any- 


80          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

body  noted  in  'istory,"  said  Worby,  who  had 
a  dry  smile  on  his  face,  "  for  we  don't  own  any 
record  whatsoever  of  who  it  was  put  up  to. 
For  all  that,  if  you've  half  an  hour  to  spare, 
sir,  when  we  get  back  to  the  house,  Mr.  Lake, 
I  could  tell  you  a  tale  about  that  tomb.  I 
won't  begin  on  it  now ;  it  strikes  cold  here,  and 
we  don't  want  to  be  dawdling  about  all  night." 
"  Of  course  I  should  like  to  hear  it  immensely." 
"  Very  well,  sir,  you  shall.  Now  if  I  might 
put  a  question  to  you,"  he  went  on,  as  they 
passed  down  the  choir  aisle,  "  in  our  little  local 
guide — and  not  only  there,  but  in  the  little 
book  on  our  Cathedral  in  the  series — you'll 
find  it  stated  that  this  portion  of  the  building 
was  erected  previous  to  the  twelfth  century. 
Now  of  course  I  should  be  glad  enough  to  take 
that  view,  but — mind  the  step,  sir — but,  I  put 
it  to  you — does  the  lay  of  the  stone  'ere  in 
this  portion  of  the  wall  (which  he  tapped  with 
his  key)  does  it  to  your  eye  carry  the  flavour 
of  what  you  might  call  Saxon  masonry  ?  No, 
I  thought  not ;  no  more  it  does  to  me  :  now,  if 
you'll  believe  me,  I've  said  as  much  to  those 
men — one's  the  librarian  of  our  Free  Libry 
here,  and  the  other  came  down  from  London 
on  purpose — fifty  times,  if  I  have  once,  but  I 


AN   EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     81 

might  just  as  well  have  talked  to  that  bit  of 
stonework.  But  there  it  is,  I  suppose  every 
one's  got  their  opinions." 

The  discussion  of  this  peculiar  trait  of  human 
nature  occupied  Mr.  Worby  almost  up  to  the 
moment  when  he  and  Lake  re-entered  the 
former's  house.  The  condition  of  the  fire  in 
Lake's  sitting-room  led  to  a  suggestion  from 
Mr.  Worby  that  they  should  finish  the  evening 
in  his  own  parlour.  We  find  them  accordingly 
settled  there  some  short  time  afterwards. 

Mr.  Worby  made  his  story  a  long  one,  and  I 
will  not  undertake  to  tell  it  wholly  in  his  own 
words,  or  in  his  own  order.  Lake  committed 
the  substance  of  it  to  paper  immediately  after 
hearing  it,  together  with  some  few  passages  of  the 
narrative  which  had  fixed  themselves  verbatim 
in  his  mind;  I  shall  probably  find  it  expedient 
to  condense  Lake's  record  to  some  extent. 

Mr.  Worby  was  bom,  it  appeared,  about  the 
year  1828.  His  father  before  him  had  been, 
connected  with  the  Cathedral,  and  likewise  his 
grandfather.  One  or  both  had  been  choristers, 
and  in  later  life  both  had  done  work  as  mason 
and  carpenter  respectively  about  the  fabric. 
Worby  himself,  though  possessed,  as  he  frankly 
acknowledged,  of  an  indifferent  voice,  had  been 

7 


82  A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

drafted  into  the  choir  at  about  ten  years  of 
age. 

It  was  in  1840  that  the  wave  of  the  Gothic 
revival  smote  the  Cathedral  of  Southminster. 
"  There  was  a  lot  of  lovely  stuff  went  then,  sir," 
said  Worby,  with  a  sigh.  "  My  father  couldn't 
hardly  believe  it  when  he  got  his  orders  to  clear 
out  the  choir.  There  was  a  new  dean  just 
come  in — Dean  Burscough  it  was — and  my 
father  had  been  'prenticed  to  a  good  firm  of 
joiners  in  the  city,  and  knew  what  good  work 
was  when  he  saw  it.  Crool  it  was,  he  used  to 
say  :  all  that  beautiful  wainscot  oak,  as  good  as 
the  day  it  was  put  up,  and  garlands-like  of 
foliage  and  fruit,  and  lovely  old  gilding  work  on 
the  coats  of  arms  and  the  organ  pipes.  All 
went  to  the  timber  yard — every  bit  except  some 
little  pieces  worked  up  in  the  Lady  Chapel, 
and  'ere  in  this  overmantel.  Well — I  may  be 
mistook,  but  I  say  our  choir  never  looked  as  well 
since.  Still  there  was  a  lot  found  out  about 
the  history  of  the  church,  and  no  doubt  but  what 
it  did  stand  in  need  of  repair.  There  was  very 
few  winters  passed  but  what  we'd  lose  a 
pinnicle."  Mr.  Lake  expressed  his  concurrence 
with  Worby's  views  of  restoration,  but  owns  to 
a  fear  about  this  point  lest  the  story  proper 


AN  EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     83 

should  never  be  reached.     Possibly   this   was 
perceptible  in  his  manner. 

Worby  hastened  to  reassure  him,  "  Not  but 
what  I  could  carry  on  about  that  topic  for  hours 
at  a  time,  and  do  do  when  I  see  my  opportunity. 
But  Dean  Burscough  he  was  very  set  on  the 
Gothic  period,  and  nothing  would  serve  him  but 
everything  must  be  made  agreeable  to  that. 
And  one  morning  after  service  he  appointed  for 
my  father  to  meet  him  in  the  choir,  and  he  came 
back  after  he'd  taken  off  his  robes  in  the  vestry, 
and  he'd  got  a  roll  of  paper  with  him,  and  the 
verger  that  was  then  brought  in  a  table,  and 
they  begun  spreading  it  out  on  the  table  with 
prayer  books  to  keep  it  down,  and  my  father 
helped  'em,  and  he  saw  it  was  a  picture  of  the 
inside  of  a  choir  in  a  Cathedral ;  and  the  Dean 
— he  was  a  quick  spoken  gentleman — he  says, 
'  Well,  Worby,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  ' 
*  Why,'  says  my  father,  '  I  don't  think  I  'ave 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  view.  Would  that 
be  Hereford  Cathedral,  Mr.  Dean  ? '  '  No, 
Worby,'  says  the  Dean,  '  that's  Southminster 
Cathedral  as  we  hope  to  see  it  before  many 
years.'  'In-deed,  sir,'  says  my  father,  and  that 
was  all  he  did  say — leastways  to  the  Dean — 
but  he  used  to  tell  me  he  felt  really  faint  in 


84  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

himself  when  he  looked  round  our  choir  as  I 
can  remember  it,  all  comfortable  and  furnished- 
like,  and  then  see  this  nasty  little  dry  picter, 
as  he  called  it,  drawn  out  by  some  London 
architect.  Well,  there  I  am  again.  But  you'll 
see  what  I  mean  if  you  look  at  this  old  view." 
Worby  reached  down  a  framed  print  from 
the  wall.  "  Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it 
was  that  the  Dean  he  handed  over  to  my  father 
a  copy  of  an  order  of  the  Chapter  that  he  was 
to  clear  out  every  bit  of  the  choir — make  a  clean 
sweep — ready  for  the  new  work  that  was  being 
designed  up  in  town,  and  he  was  to  put  it  in 
hand  as  soon  as  ever  he  could  get  the  breakers 
together.  Now  then,  sir,  if  you  look  at  that 
view,  you'll  see  where  the  pulpit  used  to  stand : 
that's  what  I  want  you  to  notice,  if  you  please." 
It  was,  indeed,  easily  seen ;  an  unusually 
large  structure  of  timber  with  a  domed  sounding- 
board,  standing  at  the  east  end  of  the  stalls  on 
the  north  side  of  the  choir,  facing  the  bishop's 
throne.  Worby  proceeded  to  explain  that  dur- 
ing the  alterations,  services  were  held  in  the 
nave,  the  members  of  the  choir  being  thereby 
disappointed  of  an  anticipated  holiday,  and  the 
organist  in  particular  incurring  the  suspicion 
of  having  wilfully  damaged  the  mechanism  of 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     85 

the  temporary  organ  that  was  hired  at  con- 
siderable expense  from  London. 

The  work  of  demolition  began  with  the  choir 
screen  and  organ  loft,  and  proceeded  gradually 
eastwards,  disclosing,  as  Worby  said,  many 
interesting  features  of  older  work.  While  this 
was  going  on,  the  members  of  the  Chapter  were, 
naturally,  in  and  about  the  choir  a  great  deal, 
and  it  soon  became  apparent  to  the  elder  Worby 
—who  could  not  help  overhearing  some  of  their 
talk — that,  on  the  part  of  the  senior  Canons 
especially,  there  must  have  been  a  good  deal 
of  disagreement  before  the  policy  now  being 
carried  out  had  been  adopted.  Some  were  of 
opinion  that  they  should  catch  their  deaths  of 
cold  in  the  return-stalls,  unprotected  by  a 
screen  from  the  draughts  in  the  nave  :  others 
objected  to  being  exposed  to  the  view  of  persons 
in  the  choir  aisles,  especially,  they  said,  during 
the  sermons,  when  they  found  it  helpful  to 
listen  in  a  posture  which  was  liable  to  mis- 
construction. The  strongest  opposition,  how- 
ever, came  from  the  oldest  of  the  body,  who  up 
to  the  last  moment  objected  to  the  removal  of 
the  pulpit.  "  You  ought  not  to  touch  it,  Mr. 
Dean,"  he  said  with  great  emphasis  one  morning, 
when  the  two  were  standing  before  it :  "  you 


86  A  THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

don't    know    what    mischief    you    may    do." 
"  Mischief  ?    it's  not  a  work  of  any  particular 
merit,  Canon."     "  Don't  call  me  Canon,"  said 
the    old    man   with   great   asperity,    "  that  is, 
for  thirty  years  I've  been  known  as  Dr.  Ayloff, 
and  I  shall  be  obliged,  Mr.  Dean,  if  you  would 
kindly  humour  me  in  that  matter.     And  as  to 
the  pulpit  (which  I've  preached  from  for  thirty 
years,  though  I  don't  insist  on  that)  all  I'll  say 
is,  I  know  you're  doing  wrong  in  moving  it." 
"  But   what    sense    could   there   be,    my    dear 
Doctor,  in  leaving  it  where  it  is,  when  we're 
fitting  up  the  rest  of  the  choir  in  a  totally 
different  style  ?    What  reason  could  be  given 
— apart  from  the  look  of  the  thing  ?  "     "  Rea- 
son !    reason  !  "  said  old  Dr.  Ayloff ;  "if  you 
young  men — if  I  may  say  so  without  any  dis- 
respect, Mr.  Dean — if  you'd  only  listen  to  reason 
a  little,  and  not  be  always  asking  for  it,  we  should 
get   on  better.     But  there,  I've  said  my  say." 
The  old  gentleman  hobbled  off,  and  as  it  proved, 
never  entered  the  Cathedral  again.     The  season 
— it  was  a  hot  summer — turned  sickly  on  a 
sudden.     Dr.  Ayloff  was  one  of  the  first  to  go, 
with  some  affection  of  the  muscles  of  the  thorax, 
which  took  him  painfully  at  night.     And  at 
many   services   the  number   of   choirmen   and 
boys  was  very  thin. 


AN  EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     87 

Meanwhile  the  pulpit  had  been  done  away 
with.  In  fact,  the  sounding-board  (part  of 
which  still  exists  as  a  table  in  a  summer-house 
in  the  palace  garden)  was  taken  down  within 
an  hour  or  two  of  Dr.  Ayloff's  protest.  The 
removal  of  the  base — not  effected  without 
considerable  trouble — disclosed  to  view,  greatly 
to  the  exultation  of  the  restoring  party,  an  altar- 
tomb — the  tomb,  of  course,  to  which  Worby 
had  attracted  Lake's  attention  that  same  even- 
ing. Much  fruitless  research  was  expended  in 
attempts  to  identify  the  occupant;  from  that 
day  to  this  he  has  never  had  a  name  put  to  him. 
The  structure  had  been  most  carefully  boxed 
in  under  the  pulpit-base,  so  that  such  slight 
ornament  as  it  possessed  was  not  defaced  ;  only 
on  the  north  side  of  it  there  was  what  looked 
like  an  injury  ;  a  gap  between  two  of  the  slabs 
composing  the  side.  It  might  be  two  or  three 
inches  across.  Palmer,  the  mason,  was  directed 
to  fill  it  up  hi  a  week's  time,  when  he  came  to  do 
some  other  small  jobs  near  that  part  of  the  choir. 

The  season  was  undoubtedly  a  very  trying 
one.  Whether  the  church  was  built  on  a  site 
that  had  once  been  a  marsh,  as  was  suggested, 
or  for  whatever  reason,  the  residents  in  its 
immediate  neighbourhood  had,  many  of  them, 


88          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

but  little  enjoyment  of  the  exquisite  sunny 
days  and  the  calm  nights  of  August  and  Sep- 
tember. To  several  of  the  older  people — Dr. 
Ayloff,  among  others,  as  we  have  seen — the 
summer  proved  downright  fatal,  but  even  among 
the  younger,  few  escaped  either  a  sojourn  in 
bed  for  a  matter  of  weeks,  or  at  the  least,  a 
brooding  sense  of  oppression,  accompanied  by 
hateful  nightmares.  Gradually  there  formu- 
lated itself  a  suspicion — which  grew  into  a  con- 
viction— that  the  alterations  in  the  Cathedral 
had  something  to  say  in  the  matter.  The  widow 
of  a  former  old  verger,  a  pensioner  of  the 
Chapter  of  Southminster,  was  visited  by  dreams, 
which  she  retailed  to  her  friends,  of  a  shape 
that  slipped  out  of  the  little  door  of  the  south 
transept  as  the  dark  fell  in,  and  flitted — taking 
a  fresh  direction  every  night — about  the  close, 
disappearing  for  a  while  in  house  after  house, 
and  finally  emerging  again  when  the  night  sky 
was  paling.  She  could  see  nothing  of  it,  she 
said,  but  that  it  was  a  moving  form  :  only  she 
had  an  impression  that  when  it  returned  to 
the  church,  as  it  seemed  to  do  in  the  end  of 
the  dream,  it  turned  its  head  :  and  then,  she 
could  not  tell  why,  but  she  thought  it  had  red 
eyes.  Worby  remembered  hearing  the  old  lady 


AN   EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     89 

tell  this  dream  at  a  tea-party  in  the  house  of  the 
chapter  clerk.  Its  recurrence  might,  perhaps, 
he  said,  be  taken  as  a  symptom  of  approaching 
illness  ;  at  any  rate  before  the  end  of  September 
the  old  lady  was  in  her  grave. 

The  interest  excited  by  the  restoration  of  this 
great  church  was  not  confined  to  its  own  county. 
One  day  that  summer  an  F.S.A.,  of  some 
celebrity,  visited  the  place.  His  business  was 
to  write  an  account  of  the  discoveries  that  had 
been  made,  for  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  and 
his  wife,  who  accompanied  him,  was  to  make 
a  series  of  illustrative  drawings  for  his  report. 
In  the  morning  she  employed  herself  in  making 
a  general  sketch  of  the  choir ;  in  the  afternoon 
she  devoted  herself  to  details.  She  first  drew 
the  newly  exposed  altar-tomb,  and  when  that 
was  finished,  she  called  her  husband's  attention 
to  a  beautiful  piece  of  diaper-ornament  on  the 
screen  just  behind  it,  which  had,  like  the  tomb 
itself,  been  completely  concealed  by  the  pulpit. 
Of  course,  he  said,  an  illustration  of  that  must 
be  made ;  so  she  seated  herself  on  the  tomb 
and  began  a  careful  drawing  which  occupied 
her  till  dusk. 

Her  husband  had  by  this  time  finished  his 
work  of  measuring  and  description,  and  they 


90  A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

agreed  that  it  was  time  to  be  getting  back  to 
their  hotel.  "  You  may  as  well  brush  my 
skirt,  Frank,"  said  the  lady,  "  it  must  have  got 
covered  with  dust,  I'm  sure."  He  obeyed 
dutifully ;  but,  after  a  moment,  he  said,  '  I 
don't  know  whether  you  value  this  dress  par- 
ticularly, my  dear,  but  I'm  inclined  to  think  it's 
seen  it's  best  days.  There's  a  great  bit  of  it 
gone."  "Gone?  Where?"  said  she.  "I 
don't  know  where  it's  gone,  but  it's  off  at  the 
bottom  edge  behind  here."  She  pulled  it 
hastily  into  sight,  and  was  horrified  to  find  a 
jagged  tear  extending  some  way  into  the  sub- 
stance of  the  stuff ;  very  much,  she  said,  as 
if  a  dog  had  rent  it  away.  The  dress  was,  in 
any  case,  hopelessly  spoilt,  to  her  great  vexation, 
and  though  they  looked  everywhere,  the  missing 
piece  could  not  be  found.  There  were  many 
ways,  they  concluded,  in  which  the  injury  might 
have  come  about,  for  the  choir  was  full  of  old 
bits  of  woodwork  with  nails  sticking  out  of 
them.  Finally,  they  could  only  suppose  that 
one  of  these  had  caused  the  mischief,  and  that 
the  Avorkmen,  who  had  been  about  all  day, 
had  carried  off  the  particular  piece  with  the 
fragment  of  dress  still  attached  to  it. 

It  was  about  this  time,  Worby  thought,  that 


AN  EPISODE   OF   CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     91 

his  little  dog  began  to  wear  an  anxious  expression 
when  the  hour  for  it  to  be  put  into  the  shed  in 
the  back  yard  approached.  (For  his  mother 
had  ordained  that  it  must  not  sleep  in  the 
house.)  One  evening,  he  said,  when  he  was 
just  going  to  pick  it  up  and  carry  it  out,  it 
looked  at  him  "  like  a  Christian,  and  waved  its 
'and,  I  was  going  to  say — well,  you  know  'ow 
they  do  carry  on  sometimes,  and  the  end  of  it 
was  I  put  it  under  my  coat,  and  'uddled  it 
upstairs — and  I'm  afraid  I  as  good  as  deceived 
my  poor  mother  on  the  subject.  After  that 
the  dog  acted  very  artful  with  'iding  itself  under 
the  bed  for  half-an-hour  or  more  before  bed-time 
came,  and  we  worked  it  so  as  my  mother 
never  found  out  what  we'd  done."  Of  course 
Worby  was  glad  of  its  company  anj^how,  but 
more  particularly  when  the  nuisance  that  is 
still  remembered  in  Southminster  as  "  the 
crying  "  set  in. 

"  Night  after  night,"  said  Worby,  "  that  dog 
seemed  to  know  it  was  coming  ;  he'd  creep  out, 
he  would,  and  snuggle  into  the  bed  and  cuddle 
right  up  to  me  shivering,  and  when  the  crying 
come  he'd  be  like  a  wild  thing,  shoving  his  head 
under  my  arm,  and  I  was  fully  near  as  bad. 
Six  or  seven  times  we'd  hear  it,  not  more,  and 


92  A  THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

when  he'd  dror  out  his  'ed  again  I'd  know  it 
was  over  for  that  night.  What  was  it  like, 
sir  ?  Well,  I  never  heard  but  one  thing  that 
seemed  to  hit  it  off.  I  happened  to  be  playing 
about  in  the  Close,  and  there  was  two  of  the 
Canons  met  and  said  *  Good  morning '  one  to 
another.  '  Sleep  well  last  night  ?  '  says  one- 
it  was  Mr.  Henslow  that  one,  and  Mr.  Lyall  was 
the  other — '  Can't  say  I  did,'  says  Mr.  Lyall, 
'  rather  too  much  of  Isaiah  34.  14  for  me.' 
'  34.  14,'  says  Mr.  Henslow,  '  what's  that  ?  ' 
'  You  call  yourself  a  Bible  reader ! '  says  Mr. 
Lyall.  (Mr.  Henslow,  you  must  know,  he  was 
one  of  what  used  to  be  termed  Simeon's  lot- 
pretty  much  what  we  should  call  the  Evangelical 
party.)  '  You  go  and  look  it  up.'  I  wanted  to 
know  what  he  was  getting  at  myself,  and  so 
off  I  ran  home  and  got  out  mv  own  Bible,  and 

V 

there  it  was  :  '  the  satyr  shall  cry  to  his  fellow.' 
Well,  I  thought,  is  that  what  we've  been  lis- 
tening to  these  past  nights  ?  and  I  tell  you  it 
made  me  look  over  my  shoulder  a  time  or  two. 
Of  course  I'd  asked  my  father  and  mother 
about  what  it  could  be  before  that,  but  they 
both  said  it  was  most  likely  cats  :  but  they  spoke 
very  short,  and  I  could  see  they  was  troubled. 
My  word  !  that  was  a  noise — 'ungry-like,  as 


AN  EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     93 

if  it  was  calling  after  some  one  that  wouldn't 
come.  If  ever  you  felt  you  wanted  company, 
it  would  be  when  you  was  waiting  for  it  to 
begin  again.  I  believe  two  or  three  nights  there 
was  men  put  on  to  watch  in  different  parts  of 
the  Close  ;  but  they  all  used  to  get  together  in 
one  corner,  the  nearest  they  could  to  the  High 
Street,  and  nothing  came  of  it. 

"  Well,  the  next  thing  was  this.  Me  and 
another  of  the  boys — he's  in  business  in  the  city 
now  as  a  grocer,  like  his  father  before  him — 
we'd  gone  up  in  the  Close  after  morning  service 
was  over,  and  we  heard  old  Palmer  the  mason 
bellowing  to  some  of  his  men.  So  we  went  up 
nearer,  because  we  knew  he  was  a  rusty  old 
chap  and  there  might  be  some  fun  going.  It 
appears  Palmer  'd  told  this  man  to  stop  up  the 
chink  in  that  old  tomb.  Well,  there  was  this 
man  keeping  on  saying  he'd  done  it  the  best 
he  could,  and  there  was  Palmer  carrying  on  like 
all  possessed  about  it.  '  Call  that  making  a  job 
of  it  ?  '  he  says.  '  If  you  had  your  rights  you'd 
get  the  sack  for  this.  What  do  you  suppose  I 
pay  you  your  wages  for  ?  What  do  you  suppose 
I'm  going  to  say  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  when 
they  come  round,  as  come  they  may  do  any 
time,  and  see  where  you've  been  bungling  about 


94  A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

covering  the  'ole  place  with  mess  and  plaster 
and  Lord  knows  what  ? '  '  Well,  master,  I 
done  the  best  I  could,'  s&ys  the  man  ;  '  I  don't 
know  no  more  than  what  you  do  'ow  it  come 
to  fall  out  this  way.  I  tamped  it  right  in  the 
'ole,'  he  says,  c  and  now  it's  fell  out,'  he  says, 
'  I  never  see.' 

"  '  Fell  out  ? '  says  old  Palmer,  '  why  it's 
nowhere  near  the  place.  Blowed  out,  you 
mean,'  and  he  picked  up  a  bit  of  plaster,  and  so 
did  I,  that  was  laying  up  against  the  screen, 
three  or  four  feet  off,  and  not  dry  yet ;  and  old 
Palmer  he  looked  at  it  curious-like,  and  then 
he  turned  round  on  me  and  he  says,  '  Now  then, 
you  boys,  have  you  been  up  to  some  of  your 
games  here  ?  '  '  No,'  I  says,  '  I  haven't,  Mr. 
Palmer ;  there's  none  of  us  been  about  here 
till  just  this  minute,'  and  while  I  was  talking 
the  other  boy,  Evans,  he  got  looking  in  through 
the  chink,  and  I  heard  him  draw  in  his  breath, 
and  he  came  away  sharp  and  up  to  us,  and  says 
he,  '  I  believe  there's  something  in  there.  I 
saw  something  shiny.'  '  What !  I  daresay,' 
says  old  Palmer ;  '  Well,  I  ain't  got  time  to  stop 
about  there.  You,  William,  you  go  off  and  get 
some  more  stuff  and  make  a  job  of  it  this  time  ; 
if  not,  there'll  be  trouble  in  my  yard,'  he  says. 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     95 

"  So  the  man  he  went  off,  and  Palmer  too, 
and  us  boys  stopped  behind,  and  I  says  to  Evans, 
'  Did  you  realty  see  anything  in  there  ?  '  '  Yes,' 
he  says,  '  I  did  indeed.'  So  then  I  says,  4  Let's 
shove  something  in  and  stir  it  up.'  And  we 
tried  several  of  the  bits  of  wood  that  was  laying 
about,  but  they  were  all  too  big.  Then  Evans 
he  had  a  sheet  of  music  he'd  brought  with  him, 
an  anthem  or  a  service,  I  forget  which  it  was 
now,  and  he  rolled  it  up  small  and  shoved  it 
in  the  chink ;  two  or  three  times  he  did  it, 
and  nothing  happened.  '  Give  it  me,  boy,' 
I  said,  and  I  had  a  try.  No,  nothing  happened. 
Then,  I  don't  know  why  I  thought  of  it,  I'm 
sure,  but  I  stooped  down  just  opposite  the 
chink  and  put  my  two  fingers  in  my  mouth  and 
whistled — you  know  the  way — and  at  that  I 
seemed  to  think  I  heard  something  stirring, 
and  I  says  to  Evans,  '  Come  away,'  I  says  ; 
4 1  don't  like  this.'  '  Oh,  rot,'  he  says,  '  Give 
me  that  roll,'  and  he  took  it  and  shoved  it  in. 
And  I  don't  think  ever  I  see  any  one  go  so  pale 
as  he  did.  '  I  say,  Worby,'  he  says,  '  it's 
caught,  or  else  some  one's  got  hold  of  it.' 
'  Pull  it  out  or  leave  it,'  I  says,  '  Come  and  let's 
get  off.'  So  he  gave  a  good  pull,  and  it  came 
away.  Leastways  most  of  it  did,  but  the  end 


96          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

was  gone.  Torn  off  it  was,  and  Evans  looked 
at  it  for  a  second  and  then  he  gave  a  sort  of  a 
croak  and  let  it  drop,  and  we  both  made  off 
out  of  there  as  quick  as  ever  we  could.  When 
we  got  outside  Evans  says  to  me,  '  Did  you 
see  the  end  of  that  paper.'  '  No,'  I  says, 
'  only  it  was  torn.'  '  Yes,  it  was,'  he  says, 
'  but  it  was  wet  too,  and  black  ! '  Well,  partly 
because  of  the  fright  we  had,  and  partly  because 
that  music  was  wanted  in  a  day  or  two,  and  we 
knew  there' d  be  a  set-out  about  it  with  the 
organist,  we  didn't  say  nothing  to  any  one  else, 
and  I  suppose  the  workmen  they  swept  up  the 
bit  that  was  left  along  with  the  rest  of  the  rub- 
bish. But  Evans,  if  you  were  to  ask  him  this  very 
day  about  it,  he'd  stick  to  it  he  saw  that  paper 
wet  and  black  at  the  end  where  it  was  torn." 
After  that  the  boys  gave  the  choir  a  wide 
berth,  so  that  Worby  was  not  sure  what  was 
the  result  of  the  mason's  renewed  mending  of 
the  tomb.  Only  he  made  out  from  fragments 
of  conversation  dropped  by  the  workmen  passing 
through  the  choir  that  some  difficulty  had  been 
met  with,  and  that  the  governor — Mr.  Palmer 
to  wit — had  tried  his  own  hand  at  the  job. 
A  little  later,  he  happened  to  see  Mr.  Palmer 
himself  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  Deanery 


AN   EPISODE   OF   CATHEDRAL   HISTORY     97 

and  being  admitted  by  the  butler.  A  day  or  so 
after  that,  he  gathered  from  a  remark  his 
father  let  fall  at  breakfast  that  something  a 
little  out  of  the  common  was  to  be  done  in  the 
Cathedral  after  morning  service  on  the  morrow. 
"  And  I'd  just  as  soon  it  was  to-day,"  his  father 
added,  "  I  don't  see  the  use  of  running  risks." 
"  '  Father,'  I  says,  '  what  are  you  going  to  do 
in  the  Cathedral  to-morrow  ?  '  and  he  turned  on 
me  as  savage  as  I  ever  see  him — he  was  a  won- 
derful good-tempered  man  as  a  general  thing, 
my  poor  father  was.  '  My  lad,'  he  says,  c  I'll 
trouble  you  not  to  go  picking  up  your  elders' 
and  betters'  talk  :  it's  not  manners  and  it's  not 
straight.  What  I'm  going  to  do  or  not  going 
-to  do  in  the  Cathedral  to-morrow  is  none  of 
your  business :  and  if  I  catch  sight  of  you 
hanging  about  the  place  to-morrow  after  your 
work's  done,  I'll  send  you  home  with  a  flea  in 
your  ear.  Now  you  mind  that.'  Of  course  I 
said  I  was  very  sorry  and  that,  and  equally 
of  course  I  went  off  and  laid  my  plans  with 
Evans.  We  knew  there  was  a  stair  up  in  the 
corner  of  the  transept  which  you  can  get  up  to 
the  triforium,  and  in  them  days  the  door  to  it 
was  pretty  well  always  open,  and  even  if  it 
wasn't  we  knew  the  key  usually  laid  under  a 

8 


98  A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

bit  of  matting  hard  by.  So  we  made  up  our 
minds  we'd  be  putting  away  music  and  that,  next 
morning  while  the  rest  of  the  boys  was  clearing 
off,  and  then  slip  up  the  stairs  and  watch  from  the 
triforium  if  there  was  any  signs  of  work  going  on. 
"  Well,  that  same  night  I  dropped  off  asleep 
as  sound  as  a  boy  does,  and  all  of  a  sudden  the 
dog  woke  me  up,  coming  into  the  bed,  and 
thought  I,  now  we're  going  to  get  it  sharp,  for 
he  seemed  more  frightened  than  usual.  After 
about  five  minutes  sure  enough  came  this  cry. 
I  can't  give  you  no  idea  what  it  was  like  ;  and 
so  near  too — nearer  than  I'd  heard  it  yet — and 
a  funny  thing,  Mr.  Lake,  you  know  what  a 
place  this  Close  is  for  an  echo,  and  particular 
if  you  stand  this  side  of  it.  Well,  this  crying 
never  made  no  sign  of  an  echo  at  all.  But,  as 
I  said,  it  was  dreadful  near  this  night ;  and  on 
the  top  of  the  start  I  got  with  hearing  it,  I  got 
another  fright ;  for  I  heard  something  rustling 
outside  in  the  passage.  Now  to  be  sure  I 
thought  I  was  done ;  but  I  noticed  the  dog 
seemed  to  perk  up  a  bit,  and  next  there  was 
some  one  whispered  outside  the  door,  and  I 
very  near  laughed  out  loud,  for  I  knew  it  was 
my  father  and  mother  that  had  got  out  of  bed 
with  the  noise.  '  Whatever  is  it  ? '  says  my 


AN   EPISODE   OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY     99 

mother.  '  Hush !  I  don't  know,'  says  my 
father,  excited-like,  '  don't  disturb  the  boy. 
I  hope  he  didn't  hear  nothing.' 

"  So,  me  knowing  they  were  just  outside,  it 
made  me  bolder,  and  I  slipped  out  of  bed  across 
to  my  little  window— giving  on  the  Close — but 
the  dog  he  bored  right  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  bed — and  I  looked  out.  First  go  off  I  couldn't 
see  anything.  Then  right  down  in  the  shadow 
under  a  buttress  I  made  out  what  I  shall  always 
say  was  two  spots  of  red — a  dull  red  it  was — 
nothing  like  a  lamp  or  a  fire,  but  just  so  as  you 
could  pick  'em  out  of  the  black  shadow.  I 
hadn't  but  just  sighted  'em  when  it  seemed  we 
wasn't  the  only  people  that  had  been  disturbed, 
because  I  see  a  window  in  a  house  on  the  left- 
hand  side  become  lighted  up,  and  the  light 
moving.  I  just  turned  my  head  to  make  sure 
of  it,  and  then  looked  back  into  the  shadow  for 
those  two  red  things,  and  they  were  gone,  and  for 
all  I  peered  about  and  stared,  there  was  not  a 
sign  more  of  them.  Then  come  my  last  fright 
that  night — something  come  against  my  bare 
leg — but  that  was  all  right :  that  was  my  little 
dog  had  come  out  of  bed,  and  prancing  about, 
making  a  great  to-do,  only  holding  his  tongue, 
and  me  seeing  he  was  quite  in  spirits  again, 


100         A   THIN   GHOST   AND   OTHERS 

I  took  him  back  to  bed  and  we  slept  the 
night  out ! 

"  Next  morning  I  made  out  to  tell  my  mother 
I'd  had  the  dog  in  my  room,  and  I  was  surprised, 
after  all  she'd  said  about  it  before,  how  quiet 
she  took  it.  '  Did  you  ?  '  she  says.  '  Well,  by 
good  rights  you  ought  to  go  without  your 
breakfast  for  doing  such  a  thing  behind  my 
back :  but  I  don't  know  as  there's  any  great 
harm  done,  only  another  time  you  ask  my 
permission,  do  you  hear  ?  '  A  bit  after  that 
I  said  something  to  my  father  about  having 
heard  the  cats  again.  '  Cats?  he  says,  and  he 
looked  over  at  my  poor  mother,  and  she  coughed 
and  he  says,  '  Oh  !  ah  !  yes,  cats.  I  believe 
I  heard  'em  myself.' 

"  That  was  a  funny  morning  altogether : 
nothing  seemed  to  go  right.  The  organist  he 
stopped  in  bed,  and  the  minor  Canon  he  forgot 
it  was  the  19th  day  and  waited  for  the  Venite ; 
and  after  a  bit  the  deputy  he  set  off  playing 
the  chant  for  evensong,  which  was  a  minor ;  and 
then  the  Decani  boys  were  laughing  so  much 
they  couldn't  sing,  and  when  it  came  to  the 
anthem  the  solo  boy  he  got  took  with  the  giggles, 
and  made  out  his  nose  was  bleeding,  and  shoved 
the  book  at  me  what  hadn't  practised  the  verse 
and  wasn't  much  of  a  singer  if  I  had  known 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY  101 

it.  Well,  things  was  rougher,  you  see,  fifty 
years  ago,  and  I  got  a  nip  from  the  counter- 
tenor behind  me  that  I  remembered. 

"So  we  got  through  somehow,  and  neither 
the  men  nor  the  boys  weren't  by  way  of  waiting 
to  see  whether  the  Canon  in  residence — Mr. 
Henslow  it  was — would  come  to  the  vestries 
and  fine  'em,  but  I  don't  believe  he  did :  for 
one  thing  I  fancy  he'd  read  the  wrong  lesson 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  knew  it.  Any- 
how Evans  and  me  didn't  find  no  difficulty  in 
slipping  up  the  stairs  as  I  told  you,  and  when 
we  got  up  we  laid  ourselves  down  flat  on  our 
stomachs  where  we  could  just  stretch  our  heads 
out  over  the  old  tomb,  and  we  hadn't  but  just 
done  so  when  we  heard  the  verger  that  was  then, 
first  shutting  the  iron  porch-gates  and  locking 
the  south-west  door,  and  then  the  transept 
door,  so  we  knew  there  was  something  up,  and 
they  meant  to  keep  the  public  out  for  a  bit. 

"  Next  thing  was,  the  Dean  and  the  Canon 
come  in  by  their  door  on  the  north,  and  then 
I  see  my  father,  and  old  Palmer,  and  a  couple 
of  their  best  men,  and  Palmer  stood  a  talking 
for  a  bit  with  the  Dean  in  the  middle  of  the 
choir.  He  had  a  coil  of  rope  and  the  men  had 
crows.  All  of  'em  looked  a  bit  nervous.  So 
there  they  stood  talking,  and  at  last  I  heard 


102         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

the  Dean  say,  '  Well,  I've  no  time  to  waste, 
Palmer.  If  you  think  this'll  satisfy  South- 
minster  people,  I'll  permit  it  to  be  done ;  but 
I  must  say  this,  that  never  in  the  whole  course 
of  my  life  have  I  heard  such  arrant  nonsense 
from  a  practical  man  as  I  have  from  you. 
Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Henslow  ?  '  As  far 
as  I  could  hear  Mr.  Henslow  said  something 
like  '  Oh  !  well  we're  told,  aren't  we,  Mr.  Dean, 
not  to  judge  others  ?  '  and  the  Dean  he  gave 
a  kind  of  sniff,  and  walked  straight  up  to  the 
tomb,  and  took  his  stand  behind  it  with  his 
back  to  the  screen,  and  the  others  they  come 
edging  up  rather  gingerly.  Henslow,  he  stopped 
on  the  south  side  and  scratched  on  his  chin, 
he  did.  Then  the  Dean  spoke  up  :  *  Palmer,' 
he  says,  '  which  can  you  do  easiest,  get  the  slab 
off  the  top,  or  shift  one  of  the  side  slabs  ? ' 

"  Old  Palmer  and  his  men  they  pottered  about 
a  bit  looking  round  the  edge  of  the  top  slab 
and  sounding  the  sides  on  the  south  and  east 
and  west  and  everywhere  but  the  north.  Hen- 
slow  said  something  about  it  being  better  to 
have  a  try  at  the  south  side,  because  there  was 
more  light  and  more  room  to  move  about  in. 
Then  my  father,  who'd  been  watching  of  them, 
went  round  to  the  north  side,  and  knelt  down 
and  felt  of  the  slab  by  the  chink,  and  he  got 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY  103 

up  and  dusted  his  knees  and  says  to  the  Dean  : 
1  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Dean,  but  I  think  if  Mr. 
Palmer '11  try  this  here  slab  he'll  find  it'll  come 
out  easy  enough.  Seems  to  me  one  of  the  men 
could  prize  it  out  with  his  crow  by  means  of 
this  chink.'  *  Ah  !  thank  you,  Worby,'  says 
the  Dean;  'that's  a  good  suggestion.  Palmer, 
let  one  of  your  men  do  that,  will  you  ?  ' 

"  So  the  man  come  round,  and  put  his  bar 
in  and  bore  on  it,  and  just  that  minute  when 
they  were  all  bending  over,  and  we  boys  got 
our  heads  well  out  over  the  edge  of  the  tri- 
forium,  there  come  a  most  fearful  crash  down 
at  the  west  end  of  the  choir,  as  if  a  whole  stack 
of  big  timber  had  fallen  down  a  flight  of  stairs. 
Well,  you  can't  expect  me  to  tell  you  every- 
thing that  happened  all  in  a  minute.  Of  course 
there  was  a  terrible  commotion.  I  heard  the 
slab  fall  out,  and  the  crowbar  on  the  floor, 
and  I  heard  the  Dean  say  '  Good  God ! ' 

"  When  I  looked  down  again  I  saw  the  Dean 
tumbled  over  on  the  floor,  the  men  was  making 
off  down  the  choir,  Henslow  was  just  going  to 
help  the  Dean  up,  Palmer  was  going  to  stop 
the  men,  as  he  said  afterwards,  and  my  father 
was  sitting  on  the  altar  step  with  his  face  in 
his  hands.  The  Dean  he  was  very  cross.  *  I 
wish  to  goodness  you'd  look  where  you're 


104         A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

coming  to,  Henslow,'  he  says.  'Why  you  should 
all  take  to  your  heels  when  a  stick  of  wood 
tumbles  down  I  cannot  imagine,'  and  all  Henslow 
could  do,  explaining  he  was  right  away  on  the 
other  side  of  the  tomb,  would  not  satisfy  him. 
"  Then  Palmer  came  back  and  reported  there 
was  nothing  to  account  for  this  noise  and 
nothing  seemingly  fallen  down,  and  when  the 
Dean  finished  feeling  of  himself  they  gathered 
round — except  my  father,  he  sat  where  he 
was — and  some  one  lighted  up  a  bit  of  candle 
and  they  looked  into  the  tomb.  '  Nothing 
there,'  says  the  Dean,  '  what  did  I  tell  you  ? 
Stay  !  here's  something.  What's  this  :  a  bit 
of  music  paper,  and  a  piece  of  torn  stuff — part 
of  a  dress  it  looks  like.  Both  quite  modern 
— no  interest  whatever.  Another  time  perhaps 
you'll  take  the  advice  of  an  educated  man ' — 
or  something  like  that,  and  off  he  went,  limping 
a  bit,  and  out  through  the  north  door,  only  as 
he  went  he  called  back  angry  to  Palmer  for 
leaving  the  door  standing  open.  Palmer  called 
out  '  Very  sorry,  sir,'  but  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  Henslow  says,  '  I  fancy  Mr. 
Dean's  mistaken.  I  closed  the  door  behind 
me,  but  he's  a  little  upset.'  Then  Palmer  says, 
'  WThy,  where's  Worby  ? '  and  they  saw  him 
sitting  on  the  step  and  went  up  to  him.  He 


AN  EPISODE  OF  CATHEDRAL  HISTORY  105 

was  recovering  himself,  it  seemed,  and  wiping 
his  forehead,  and  Palmer  helped  him  up  on  to 
his  legs,  as  I  was  glad  to  see. 

'  They  were  too  far  off  for  me  to  hear  what 
they  said,  but  my  father  pointed  to  the  north 
door  in  the  aisle,  and  Palmer  and  Henslow  both 
of  them  looked  very  surprised  and  scared. 
After  a  bit,  my  father  and  Henslow  went  out 
of  the  church,  and  the  others  made  what  haste 
they  could  to  put  the  slab  back  and  plaster  it 
in.  And  about  as  the  clock  struck  twelve  the 
Cathedral  was  opened  again  and  us  boys  made 
the  best  of  our  way  home. 

'  I  was  in  a  great  taking  to  know  what  it 
was  had  given  my  poor  father  such  a  turn,  and 
when  I  got  in  and  found  him  sitting  in  his  chair 
taking  a  glass  of  spirits,  and  my  mother  standing 
looking  anxious  at  him,  I  couldn't  keep  from 
bursting  out  and  making  confession  where  I'd 
been.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  take  on,  not  in 
the  way  of  losing  his  temper.  '  You  was  there, 
was  you  ?  Well  did  you  see  it  ?  '  'I  see  every- 
thing, father,'  I  said,  '  except  when  the  noise 
came.'  '  Did  you  see  what  it  was  knocked  the 
Dean  over  ?  '  he  says,  '  that  what  come  out  of 
the  monument  ?  You  didn't  ?  Well,  that's  a 
mercy.'  '  Why,  what  was  it,  father  ?  '  I  said. 
1  Come,  you  must  have  seen  it,'  he  says. 


106         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

' .Didn't  you  see  ?    A  thing  like  a  man,  all  over 
hair,  and  two  great  eyes  to  it  ?  ' 

'  Well,  that  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  him 
that  time,  and  later  on  he  seemed  as  if  he  was 
ashamed  of  being  so  frightened,  and  he  used  to 
put  me  off  when  I  asked  him  about  it.  But 
years  after,  when  I  was  got  to  be  a  grown  man, 
we  had  more  talk  now  and  again  on  the  matter, 
and  he  always  said  the  same  thing.  '  Black  it 
was,'  he'd  say,  '  and  a  mass  of  hair,  and  two 
legs,  and  the  light  caught  on  its  eyes.' 

"  Well,  that's  the  tale  of  that  tomb,  Mr. 
Lake ;  it's  one  we  don't  tell  to  our  visitors, 
and  I  should  be  obliged  to  you  not  to  make  any 
use  of  it  till  I'm  out  of  the  way.  I  doubt  Mr. 
Evans'll  feel  the  same  as  I  do,  if  you  ask  him." 

This  proved  to  be  the  case.  But  over  twenty 
years  have  passed  by,  and  the  grass  is  growing 
over  both  Worby  and  Evans ;  so  Mr.  Lake  felt 
no  difficulty  about  communicating  his  notes — 
taken  in  1890 — to  me.  He  accompanied  them 
with  a  sketch  of  the  tomb  and  a  copy  of  the 
short  inscription  on  the  metal  cross  which 
was  affixed  at  the  expense  of  Dr.  Lyall  to  the 
centre  of  the  northern  side.  It  was  from  the 
Vulgate  of  Isaiah  xxxiv.,  and  consisted  merely 
of  the  three  words — 

IBI    CUBAVIT   LAMIA. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  DISAPPEARANCE 
AND  AN  APPEARANCE 


THE   STORY    OF   A   DISAPPEARANCE 
AND   AN   APPEARANCE 

FT!  HE  letters  which  I  now  publish  were  sent 
to  me  recently  by  a  person  who  knows 
me  to  be  interested  in  ghost  stories.  There  is 
no  doubt  about  their  authenticity.  The  paper 
on  which  they  are  written,  the  ink,  and  the 
whole  external  aspect  put  their  date  beyond 
the  reach  of  question. 

The  only  point  which  they  do  not  make  clear 
is  the  identity  of  the  writer.  He  signs  with 
initials  only,  and  as  none  of  the  envelopes  of 
the  letters  are  preserved,  the  surname  of  his 
correspondent — obviously  a  married  brother — 
is  as  obscure  as  his  own.  No  further  prelimi- 
nary explanation  is  needed,  I  think.  Luckily 
the  first  letter  supplies  all  that  could  be  expected. 

LETTER    I 

GREAT  CHEISHALL,  Dec.  22,  1837. 
MY  DEAR  ROBERT, — It  is  with  great  regret 
for  the  enjoyment  I  am  losing,  and  for  a  reason 
which  you  will  deplore  equally  with  myself, 

109 


110         A   THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

that  I  write  to  inform  you  that  I  am  unable 
to  join  your  circle  for  this  Christmas  :  but  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  unavoidable  when 
I  say  that  I  have  within  these  few  hours  received 

a  letter  from  Mrs.  Hunt  at  B ,  to  the  effect 

that  our  Uncle  Henry  has  suddenly  and  mys- 
teriously disappeared,  and  begging  me  to  go 
down  there  immediately  and  join  the  search 
that  is  being  made  for  him.  Little  as  I,  or 
you  either,  I  think,  have  ever  seen  of  Uncle, 
I  naturally  feel  that  this  is  not  a  request  that 
can  be  regarded  lightly,  and  accordingly  I 

propose  to   go   to   B by   this   afternoon's 

mail,  reaching  it  late  in  the  evening.  I  shall 
not  go  to  the  Rectory,  but  put  up  at  the  King's 
Head,  and  to  which  you  may  address  letters. 
I  enclose  a  small  draft,  which  you  will  please 
make  use  of  for  the  benefit  of  the  young  people. 
I  shall  write  you  daily  (supposing  me  to  be 
detained  more  than  a  single  day)  what  goes  on, 
and  you  may  be  sure,  should  the  business  be 
cleared  up  in  time  to  permit  of  my  coming  to 
the  Manor  after  all,  I  shall  present  myself.  I 
have  but  a  few  minutes  at  disposal.  With 
cordial  greetings  to  you  all,  and  many  regrets, 
believe  me,  your  affectionate  Bro., 

W.  R. 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     111 

« 

LETTER    II 

KING'S  HEAD,  Dec.  23,  '37. 

MY  DEAR  ROBERT, — In  the  first  place,  there 

is  as  yet  no  news  of  Uncle  H.,  and  I  think  you 

may  finally  dismiss  any  idea — I  won't  say  hope 

—that  I  might  after  all  "  turn  up "  for  Xmas. 

However,  my  thoughts  will  be  with  you,  and 

you  have  my  best  wishes  for  a  really  festive 

day.     Mind  that  none  of  my  nephews  or  nieces 

expend  any  fraction  of  their  guineas  on  presents 

for  me. 

Since  I  got  here  I  have  been  blaming  myself 
for  taking  this  affair  of  Uncle  H.  too  easily. 
From  what  people  here  say,  I  gather  that  there 
is  very  little  hope  that  he  can  still  be  alive  ; 
but  whether  it  is  accident  or  design  that  carried 
him  off  I  cannot  judge.  The  facts  are  these. 
On  Friday  the  19th,  he  went  as  usual  shortly 
before  five  o'clock  to  read  evening  prayers  at 
the  Church ;  and  when  they  were  over  the 
clerk  brought  him  a  message,  in  response  to 
which  he  set  off  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  sick  person 
at  an  outlying  cottage  the  better  part  of  two 
miles  away.  He  paid  the  visit,  and  started  on 
his  return  journey  at  about  half -past  six.  This 
is  the  last  that  is  known  of  him.  The  people 


112         A  THIN   GHOST   AND   OTHERS 

here  are  very  much  grieved  at  his  loss  ;  he  had 
been  here  many  years,  as  you  know,  and  though, 
as  you  also  know,  he  was  not  the  most  genial 
of  men,  and  had  more  than  a  little  of  the 
martinet  in  his  composition,  he  seems  to  have 
been  active  in  good  works,  and  unsparing  of 
trouble  to  himself. 

Poor  Mrs.  Hunt,  who  has  been  his  house- 
keeper ever  since  she  left  Woodley,  is  quite 
overcome :  it  seems  like  the  end  of  the  world 
to  her.  I  am  glad  that  I  did  not  entertain 
the  idea  of  taking  quarters  at  the  Rectory  ; 
and  I  have  declined  several  kindly  offers  of 
hospitality  from  people  in  the  place,  preferring 
as  I  do  to  be  independent,  and  finding  myself 
very  comfortable  here. 

You  will,  of  course,  wish  to  know  what  has 
been  done  hi  the  way  of  inquiry  and  search. 
First,  nothing  was  to  be  expected  from  investi- 
gation at  the  Rectory  ;  and  to  be  brief,  nothing 
has  transpired.  I  asked  Mrs.  Hunt — as  others 
had  done  before — whether  there  was  either  any 
unfavourable  symptom  in  her  master  such  as 
might  portend  a  sudden  stroke,  or  attack  of 
illness,  or  whether  he  had  ever  had  reason  to 
apprehend  any  such  thing :  but  both  she,  and 
also  his  medical  man,  were  clear  that  this  was 


not  the  case.  He  was  quite  in  his  usual  health. 
In  the  second  place,  naturally,  ponds  and 
streams  have  been  dragged,  and  fields  in  the 
neighbourhood  which  he  is  known  to  have 
visited  last,  have  been  searched — without  result. 
I  have  myself  talked  to  the  parish  clerk  and 
—more  important — have  been  to  the  house 
where  he  paid  his  visit. 

There  can  be  no  question  of  any  foul  play  on 
these  people's  part.  The  one  man  in  the  house 
is  ill  in  bed  and  very  weak  :  the  wife  and  the 
children  of  course  could  do  nothing  themselves, 
nor  is  there  the  shadow  of  a  probability  that 
they  or  any  of  them  should  have  agreed  to 
decoy  poor  Uncle  H.  out  in  order  that  he  might 
be  attacked  on  the  way  back.  They  had  told 
what  they  knew  to  several  other  inquirers 
already,  but  the  woman  repeated  it  to  me. 
The  Rector  was  looking  just  as  usual :  he 
wasn't  very  long  with  the  sick  man — "  He  ain't," 
she  said,  "  like  some  what  has  a  gift  in  prayer  ; 
but  there,  if  we  was  all  that  way,  'owever 
would  the  chapel  people  get  their  living  ?  "  He 
left  some  money  when  he  went  away,  and  one 
of  the  children  saw  him  cross  the  stile  into  the 
next  field.  He  was  dressed  as  he  always  was  : 
wore  his  bands — I  gather  he  is  nearly  the  last 

9 


114         A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

man  remaining  who  does  so — at  any  rate  in 
this  district. 

You  see  I  am  putting  down  everything.  The 
fact  is  that  I.  have  nothing  else  to  do,  having 
brought  no  business  papers  with  me ;  and, 
moreover,  it  serves  to  clear  my  own  mind,  and 
may  suggest  points  which  have  been  over- 
looked. So  I  shall  continue  to  write  all  that 
passes,  even  to  conversations  if  need  be — you 
may  read  or  not  as  you  please,  but  pray  keep 
the  letters.  I  have  another  reason  for  writing 
so  fully,  but  it  is  not  a  very  tangible  one. 

You  may  ask  if  I  have  myself  made  any 
search  in  the  fields  near  the  cottage.  Some- 
thing— a  good  deal — has  been  done  by  others, 
as  I  mentioned ;  but  I  hope  to  go  over  the 
ground  to-morrow.  Bow  Street  has  now  been 
informed,  and  will  send  down  by  to-night's 
coach,  but  I  do  not  think  they  will  make  much 
of  the  job.  There  is  no  snow,  which  might 
have  helped  us.  The  fields  are  all  grass.  Of 
course  I  was  on  the  qui  vive  for  any  indication 
to-day  both  going  and  returning ;  but  there 
was  a  thick  mist  on  the  way  back,  and  I  was 
not  in  trim  for  wandering  about  unknown 
pastures,  especially  on  an  evening  when  bushes 
looked  like  men,  and  a  cow  lowing  in  the 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE    115 

distance  might  have  been  the  last  trump.  I 
assure  you,  if  Uncle  Henry  had  stepped  out 
from  among  the  trees  in  a  little  copse  which 
borders  the  path  at  one  place,  carrying  his 
head  under  his  arm,  I  should  have  been  very 
little  more  uncomfortable  than  I  was.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  was  rather  expecting  something 
of  the  kind.  But  I  must  drop  my  pen  for  the 
moment :  Mr.  Lucas,  the  curate,  is  announced. 

Later.  Mr.  Lucas  has  been,  and  gone,  and 
there  is  not  much  beyond  the  decencies  of 
ordinary  sentiment  to  be  got  from  him.  I  can 
see  that  he  has  given  up  any  idea  that  the 
Rector  can  be  alive,  and  that,  so  far  as  he  can 
be,  he  is  truly  sorry.  I  can  also  discern  that 
even  in  a  more  emotional  person  than  Mr. 
Lucas,  Uncle  Henry  was  not  likely  to  inspire 
strong  attachment. 

Besides  Mr.  Lucas,  I  have  had  another  visitor 
in  the  shape  of  my  Boniface — mine  host  of  the 
4  King's  Head  " — who  came  to  see  whether  I 
had  everything  I  wished,  and  who  really 
requires  the  pen  of  a  Boz  to  do  him  justice. 
He  was  very  solemn  and  weighty  at  first. 
'*  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  we  must  bow 
our  'ead  beneath  the  blow,  as  my  poor  wife 
had  used  to  say.  So  far  as  I  can  gather  there's 


116         A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

been  neither  hide  nor  yet  hair  of  our  late 
respected  incumbent  scented  out  as  yet ;  not 
that  he  was  what  the  Scripture  terms  a  hairy 
man  in  any  sense  of  the  word." 

I  said — as  well  as  I  could — that  I  supposed 
not,  but  could  not  help  adding  that  I  had  heard 
he  was  sometimes  a  little  difficult  to  deal  with. 
Mr.  Bowman  looked  at  me  sharply  for  a  moment, 
and  then  passed  in  a  flash  from  solemn  sympathy 
to  impassioned  declamation.  "  When  I  think," 
he  said,  "of  the  language  that  man  see  fit  to 
employ  to  me  in  this  here  parlour  over  no 
more  a  matter  than  a  cask  of  beer — such  a 
thing  as  I  told  him  might  happen  any  day  of 
the  week  to  a  man  with  a  family — though  as 
it  turned  out  he  was  quite  under  a  mistake, 
and  that  I  knew  at  the  time,  only  I  was  that 
shocked  to  hear  him  I  couldn't  lay  my  tongue 
to  the  right  expression." 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  eyed  me  with  some 
embarrassment.  I  only  said,  "  Dear  me,  I'm 
sony  to  hear  you  had  any  little  differences  : 
I  suppose  my  uncle  will  be  a  good  deal  missed 
in  the  parish  ?  "  Mr.  Bowman  drew  a  long 
breath.  "  Ah,  yes  !  "  he  said  ;  "  your  uncle  ! 
You'll  understand  me  when  I  say  that  for  the 
moment  it  had  slipped  my  remembrance  that 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     117 

he  was  a  relative  ;  and  natural  enough,  I  must 
say,  as  it  should,  for  as  to  you  bearing  any 
resemblance  to — to  him,  the  notion  of  any 
such  a  thing  is  clean  ridiculous.  All  the  same, 
'ad  I  'ave  bore  it  in  my  mind,  you'll  be  among 
the  first  to  feel,  I'm  sure,  as  I  should  have 
abstained  my  lips,  or  rather  I  should  not  have 
abstained  my  lips  with  no  such  reflections." 

I  assured  him  that  I  quite  understood,  and 
was  going  to  have  asked  him  some  further 
questions,  but  he  was  called  away  to  see  after 
some  business.  By  the  way,  you  need  not 
take  it  into  your  head  that  he  has  anything  to 
fear  from  the  inquiry  into  poor  Uncle  Henry's 
disappearance — though,  no  doubt,  in  the  watches 
of  the  night  it  will  occur  to  him  that  /  think 
he  has,  and  I  may  expect  explanations  to- 
morrow. 

I  must  close  this  letter :  it  has  to  go  by  the 
late  coach. 

LETTER   III 

Dec.  25,  '37. 

MY  DEAR  ROBERT, — This  is  a  curious  letter 
to  be  writing  on  Christmas  Day,  and  yet  after 
all  there  is  nothing  much  in  it.  Or  there  may 
be — you  shall  be  the  judge.  At  least,  nothing 


118         A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

decisive.  The  Bow  Street  men  practically  say 
that  they  have  no  clue.  The  length  of  time 
and  the  weather  conditions  have  made  all  tracks 
so  faint  as  to  be  quite  useless  :  nothing  that 
belonged  to  the  dead  man — I'm  afraid  no  other 
word  will  do — has  been  picked  up. 

As  I  expected,  Mr.  Bowman  was  uneasy  in 
his  mind  this  morning ;  quite  early  I  heard 
him  holding  forth  in  a  very  distinct  voice- 
purposely  so,  I  thought — to  the  Bow  Street 
officers  in  the  bar,  as  to  the  loss  that  the  town 
had  sustained  in  their  Rector,  and  as  to  the 
necessity  of  leaving  no  stone  unturned  (he  was 
very  great  on  this  "phrase)  in  order  to  come  at 
the  truth.  I  suspect  him  of  being  an  orator 
of  repute  at  convivial  meetings. 

When  I  was  at  breakfast  he  came  to  wait 
on  me,  and  took  an  opportunity  when  handing 
a  muffin  to  say  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  'ope,  sir,  you 
reconize  as  my  feelings  towards  your  relative 
is  not  actuated  by  any  taint  of  what  you  may 
call  melignity — you  can  leave  the  room,  Eliza, 
I  will  see  the  gentleman  'as  all  he  requires  with 
my  own  hands — I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,  but 
you  must  be  well  aware  a  man  is  not  always 
master  of  himself  :  and  when  that  man  has 
been  'urt  in  hia  mind  by  the  application  of 


A   DISAPPEARANCE   AND   APPEARANCE     119 

expressions  which  I  will  go  so  far  as  to  say  'ad 
not  ought  to  have  been  made  use  of  (his  voice 
was  rising  all  this  time  and  his  face  growing 
redder) ;  no,  sir ;  and  'ere,  if  you  will  permit 
of  it,  I  should  like  to  explain  to  you  in  a  very 
few  words  the  exact  state  of  the  bone  of  con- 
tention. This  cask — I  might  more  truly  call  it 
a  firkin — of  beer — " 

I  felt  it  was  time  to  interpose,  and  said  that 
I  did  not  see  that  it  would  help  us  very  much 
to  go  into  that  matter  in  detail.  Mr.  Bowman 
acquiesced,  and  resumed  more  calmly : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  bow  to  your  ruling,  and  as  you 
say,  be  that  here  or  be  it  there,  it  don't  con- 
tribute a  great  deal,  perhaps,  to  the  present 
question.  All  I  wish  you  to  understand  is  that 
I  am  prepared  as  you  are  yourself  to  lend  every 
hand  to  the  business  we  have  afore  us,  and — 
as  I  took  the  opportunity  to  say  as  much  to 
the  Orficers  not  three-quarters  of  an  hour  ago 
—to  leave  no  stone  unturned  as  may  throw  even 
a  spark  of  light  on  this  painful  matter." 

In  fact,  Mr.  Bowman  did  accompany  us  on 
our  exploration,  but  though  I  am  sure  his 
genuine  wish  was  to  be  helpful,  I  am  afraid 
he  did  not  contribute  to  the  serious  side  of  it. 
He  appeared  to  be  under  the  impression  that 


120         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

we  were  likely  to  meet  either  Uncle  Henry  or 
the  person  responsible  for  his  disappearance, 
walking  about  the  fields — and  did  a  great  deal 
of  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  calling 
our  attention,  by-  pointing  with  his  stick,  to 
distant  cattle  and  labourers.  He  held  several 
long  conversations  with  old  women  whom  we 
met,  and  was  very  strict  and  severe  in  his 
manner — but  on  each  occasion  returned  to  our 
party  saying,  "  Well,  I  find  she  don't  seem  to 
'ave  no  connexion  with  this  sad  affair.  I  think 
you  may  take  it  from  me,  sir,  as  there's  little 
or  no  light  to  be  looked  for  from  that  quarter  ; 
not  without  she's  keeping  somethink  back 
intentional." 

We  gained  no  appreciable  result,  as  I  told 
you  at  starting ;  the  Bow  Street  men  have 
left  the  town,  whether  for  London  or  not,  I 
am  not  sure. 

This  evening  I  had  company  in  the  shape  of 
a  bagman,  a  smartish  fellow.  He  knew  what 
was  going  forward,  but  though  he  has  been  on 
the  roads  for  some  days  about  here,  he  had 
nothing  to  tell  of  suspicious  characters — tramps, 
wandering  sailors  or  gipsies.  He  was  very  full 
of  a  capital  Punch  and  Judy  Show  he  had  seen 
this  same  day  at  W ,  and  asked  if  it  had 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     121 

been  here  yet,  and  advised  me  by  no  means 
to  miss  it  if  it  does  come.  The  best  Punch 
and  the  best  Toby  dog,  he  said,  he  had  ever 
come  across.  Toby  dogs,  you  know,  are  the 
last  new  thing  in  the  shows.  I  have  only  seen 
one  myself,  but  before  long  all  the  men  will 
have  them. 

Now  why,  you  will  want  to  know,  do  I 
trouble  to  write  all  this  to  you  ?  I  am  obliged 
to  do  it,  because  it  has  something  to  do  with 
another  absurd  trifle  (as  you  will  inevitably 
say),  which  in  my  present  state  of  rather  unquiet 
fancy — nothing  more,  perhaps — I  have  to  put 
down.  It  is  a  dream,  sir,  which  I  am  going  to 
record,  and  I  must  say  it  is  one  of  the  oddest 
I  have  had.  Is  there  anything  in  it  beyond 
what  the  bagman's  talk  and  Uncle  Henry's 
disappearance  could  have  suggested  ?  You,  I 
repeat,  shall  judge  :  I  am  not  in  a  sufficiently 
cool  and  judicial  frame  to  do  so. 

It  began  with  what  I  can  only  describe  as  a 
pulling  aside  of  curtains  :  and  I  found  myself 
seated  in  a  place — I  don't  know  whether  hi 
doors  or  out.  There  were  people — only  a  few 
—on  either  side  of  me,  but  I  did  not  recognize 
them,  or  indeed  think  much  about  them. 
They  never  spoke,  but,  so  far  as  I  remember, 


122         A   THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

were  all  grave  and  pale-faced  and  looked 
fixedly  before  them.  Facing  me  there  was  a 
Punch  and  Judy  Show,  perhaps  rather  larger 
than  the  ordinary  ones,  painted  with  black 
figures  on  a  reddish-yellow  ground.  Behind  it 
and  on  each  side  was  only  darkness,  but  in 
front  there  was  a  sufficiency  of  light.  I  was 
"  strung  up  "  to  a  high  degree  of  expectation 
and  listened  every  moment  to  hear  the  pan- 
pipes and  the  Roo-too-too-it.  Instead  of  that 
there  came  suddenly  an  enormous — I  can  use 
no  other  word — an  enormous  single  toll  of  a 
bell,  I  don't  know  from  how  far  off — some- 
where behind.  The  little  curtain  flew  up  and 
the  drama  began. 

I  believe  sqmeone  once  tried  to  re-write  Punch 
as  a  serious  tragedy ;  but  whoever  he  may 
have  been,  this  performance  would  have  suited 
him  exactly.  There  was  something  Satanic 
about  the  hero.  He  varied  his  methods  of 
attack :  for  some  of  his  victims  he  lay  in  wait, 
and  to  see  his  horrible  face — it  was  yellowish 
white,  I  may  remark — peering  round  the  wings 
made  me  think  of  the  Vampyre  in  Fuseli's  foul 
sketch.  To  others  he  was  polite  and  carneying 
— particularly  to  the  unfortunate  alien  who  can 
only  say  Shallabalah — though  what  Punch  said 


I  never   could  catch.     But  with   all   of   them 
I  came  to   dread  the  moment  of   death.     The 
crack  of  the  stick  on  their  skulls,  which  in  the 
ordinary  way  delights  me,  had  here  a  crushing 
sound  as  if  the  bone  was  giving  way,  and  the 
victims  quivered  and  kicked  as  they  lay.     The 
baby — it  sounds  more  ridiculous  as  I  go  on — 
the  baby,  I  am  sure,  was  alive.     Punch  wrung 
its  neck,  and  if  the  choke  or  squeak  which  it 
gave  were  not  real,  I  know  nothing  of  reality. 
The   stage   got   perceptibly   darker   as   each 
crime  was  consummated,  and  at  last  there  was 
one  murder  which  was  done  quite  in  the  dark, 
so  that  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  victim,  and 
took  some  time  to  effect.     It  was  accompanied 
by  hard  breathing  and  horrid  muffled  sounds, 
and  after  it  Punch  came  and  sat  on  the  foot- 
board and  fanned  himself  and  looked  at  his 
shoes,  which  were  bloody,  and  hung  his  head 
on  one  side,  and  sniggered  in  so  deadly  a  fashion 
that  I  saw  some  of  those  beside  me  cover  their 
faces,  and  I  would  gladly  have  done  the  same. 
But  in  the  meantime  the  scene  behind  Punch 
was  clearing,  and  showed,  not  the  usual  house 
front,  but  something  more  ambitious — a  grove 
of  trees  and  the  gentle  slope  of  a  hill,  with  a 
very  natural — in  fact,  I   should  say  a   real — 


124          A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

moon  shining  on  it.  Over  this  there  rose  slowly 
an  object  which  I  soon  perceived  to  be  a  human 
figure  with  something  peculiar  about  the  head 
— what,  I  was  unable  at  first  to  see.  It  did 
not  stand  on  its  feet,  but  began  creeping  or 
dragging  itself  across  the  middle  distance  to- 
wards Punch,  who  still  sat  back  to  it ;  and  by 
this  time,  I  may  remark  (though  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  at  the  moment)  that  all  pretence 
of  this  being  a  puppet  show  had  vanished. 
Punch  was  still  Punch,  it  is  true,  but,  like 
the  others,  was  in  some  sense  a  live  creature, 
and  both  moved  themselves  at  their  own  will. 
When  I  next  glanced  at  him  he  was  sitting 
in  malignant  reflection ;  but  in  another  instant 
something  seemed  to  attract  his  attention,  and 
he  first  sat  up  sharply  and  then  turned  round, 
and  evidently  caught  sight  of  the  person  that 
was  approaching  him  and  was  in  fact  now  very 
near.  Then,  indeed,  did  he  show  unmistakable 
signs  of  terror  :  catching  up  his  stick,  he  rushed 
towards  the  wood,  only  just  eluding  the  arm 
of  his  pursuer,  which  was  suddenly  flung  out 
to  intercept  him.  It  was  with  a  revulsion  which 
I  cannot  easily  express  that  I  now  saw  more 
or  less  clearly  what  this  pursuer  was  like. 
He  was  a  sturdy  figure  clad  in  black,  and, 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     125 

as  I  thought,    wearing  bands  :    his  head  was 
covered  with  a  whitish  bag. 

The  chase  which  now  began  lasted  I  do  not 
know  how  long,  now  among  the  trees,  now 
along  the  slope  of  the  field,  sometimes  both 
figures  disappearing  wholly  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  only  some  uncertain  sounds  letting  one 
know  that  they  were  still  afoot.  At  length 
there  came  a  moment  when  Punch,  evidently 
exhausted,  staggered  in  from  the  left  and  threw 
himself  down  among  the  trees.  His  pursuer 
was  not  long  after  him,  and  came  looking  un- 
certainly from  side  to  side.  Then,  catching 
sight  of  the  figure  on  the  ground,  he  too  threw 
himself  down — his  back  was  turned  to  the 
audience — with  a  swift  motion  twitched  the 
covering  from  his  head,  and  thrust  his  face 
into  that  of  Punch.  Everything  on  the  instant 
grew  dark. 

There  was  one  long,  loud,  shuddering  scream, 
and  I  awoke  to  find  myself  looking  straight 
into  the  face  of — what  in  all  the  world  do  you 
think  ? — but  a  large  owl,  which  was  seated  on 
my  window-sill  immediately  opposite  my  bed- 
foot,  holding  up  its  wings  like  two  shrouded 
arms.  I  caught  the  fierce  glance  of  its  yellow 
eyes,  and  then  it  was  gone.  I  heard  the  single 


126         A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

enormous  bell  again — very  likely,  as  you  are 
saying  to  yourself,  the  church  clock ;  but  I  do 
not  think  so — and  then  I  was  broad  awake. 

All  this,  I  may  say,  happened  within  the  last 
half-hour.  There  was  no  probability  of  my 
getting  to  sleep  again,  so  I  got  up,  put  on 
clothes  enough  to  keep  me  warm,  and  am 
writing  this  rigmarole  in  the  first  hours  of 
Christmas  Day.  Have  I  left  out  anything  ? 
Yes,  there  was  no  Toby  dog,  and  the  names 
over  the  front  of  the  Punch  and  Judy  booth 
were  Kidman  and  Gallop,  which  were  certainly 
not  what  the  bagman  told  me  to  look  out  for. 

By  this  time,  I  feel  a  little  more  as  if  I  could 
sleep,  so  this  shall  be  sealed  and  wafered. 

LETTER   IV 

Dec.  26,  '37. 

MY  DEAR  EGBERT, — All  is  over.  The  body 
has  been  found.  I  do  not  make  excuses  for 
not  having  sent  off  my  news  by  last  night's 
mail,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  was  incapable 
of  putting  pen  to  paper.  The  events  that 
attended  the  discovery  bewildered  me  so  com- 
pletely that  I  needed  what  I  could  get  of  a 
night's  rest  to  enable  me  to  face  the  situation 
at  all.  Now  I  can  give  you  my  journal  of  the 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     12T 

day,  certainly  the  strangest  Christmas  Day 
that  ever  I  spent  or  am  likely  to  spend. 

The  first  incident  was  not  very  serious.  Mr. 
Bowman  had,  I  think,  been  keeping  Christmas 
Eve,  and  was  a  little  inclined  to  be  captious  : 
at  least,  he  was  not  on  foot  very  early,  and  to 
judge  from  what  I  could  hear,  neither  men  or 
maids  could  do  anything  to  please  him.  The 
latter  were  certainly  reduced  to  tears ;  nor 
am  I  sure  that  Mr.  Bowman  succeeded  in  pre- 
serving a  manly  composure.  At  any  rate,  when 
I  came  downstairs,  it  was  in  a  broken  voice 
that  he  wished  me  the  compliments  of  the 
season,  and  a  little  later  on,  when  he  paid  his 
visit  of  ceremony  at  breakfast,  he  was  far  from 
cheerful :  even  Byronic,  I  might  almost  say, 
in  his  outlook  on  life. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  "  if  you  think  with 
me,  sir ;  but  every  Christmas  as  comes  round 
the  world  seems  a  hollerer  thing  to  me.  Why, 
take  an  example  now  from  what  lays  under 
my  own  eye.  There's  my  servant  Eliza — been 
with  me  now  for  going  on  fifteen  years.  I 
thought  I  could  have  placed  my  confidence  in 
Elizar,  and  yet  this  very  morning — Christmas 
morning  too,  of  all  the  blessed  days  in  the  year 
—with  the  bells  a  ringing  and — and — all  like 


128         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

that — I  say,  this  very  morning,  had  it  not  have 
been  for  Providence  watching  over  us  all,  that 
girl  would  have  put — indeed  I  may  go  so  far 
to  say,  'ad  put  the  cheese  on  your  breakfast 

table "     He  saw  I  was  about  to  speak,  and 

waved  his  hand  at  me.  "  It's  all  very  well 
for  you  to  say,  '  Yes,  Mr.  Bowman,  but  you 
took  away  the  cheese  and  locked  it  up  in  the 
cupboard,'  which  I  did,  and  have  the  key  here, 
or  if  not  the  actual  key  one  very  much  about 
the  same  size.  That's  true  enough,  sir,  but 
what  do  you  think  is  the  effect  of  that  action 
on  me  ?  Why  it's  no  exaggeration  for  me  to 
say  that  the  ground  is  cut  from  under  my  feet. 
And  yet  when  I  said  as  much  to  Eliza,  not 
nasty,  mind  you,  but  just  firm  like,  what  was 
my  return  ?  '  Oh,'  she  says  :  '  Well,'  she  says, 
'  there  wasn't  no  bones  broke,  I  suppose.' 
Well,  sir,  it  'urt  me,  that's  all  I  can  say  :  it 
'urt  me,  and  I  don't  like  to  think  of  it  now." 
There  was  an  ominous  pause  here,  in  which 
I  ventured  to  say  something  like,  "  Yes,  very 
trying,"  and  then  asked  at  what  hour  the 
church  service  was  to  be.  "  Eleven  o'clock," 
Mr.  Bowman  said  with  a  heavy  sigh.  "  Ah, 
you  won't  have  no  such  discourse  from  poor 
Mr.  Lucas  as  what  you  would  have  done  from 


A   DISAPPEARANCE   AND   APPEARANCE     129 

our  late  Rector.  Him  and  me  may  have  had 
our  little  differences,  and  did  do,  more's  the 
pity." 

I  could  see  that  a  powerful  effort  was  needed 
to  keep  him  off  the  vexed  question  of  the  cask 
of  beer,  but  he  made  it.  "  But  I  will  say  this, 
that  a  better  preacher,  nor  yet  one  to  stand 
faster  by  his  rights,  or  what  he  considered  to 
be  his  rights — however,  that's  not  the  question 
now — I  for  one,  never  set  under.  Some  might 
say,  '  Was  he  a  eloquent  man  ?  '  and  to  that 
my  answer  would  be  :  '  Well,  there  you've  a 
better  right  per'aps  to  speak  of  your  own  uncle 
than  what  I  have.'  Others  might  ask,  '  Did 
he  keep  a  hold  of  his  congregation  ?  '  and  there 
again  I  should  reply,  '  That  depends.'  But 
as  I  say — Yes,  Eliza,  my  girl,  I'm  coming — 
eleven  o'clock,  sir,  and  you  inquire  for  the 
King's  Head  pew."  I  believe  Eliza  had  been 
very  near  the  door,  and  shall  consider  it  in 
my  vail. 

The  next  episode  was  church  :  I  felt  Mr. 
Lucas  had  a  difficult  task  in  doing  justice  to 
Christmas  sentiments,  and  also  to  the  feeling 
of  disquiet  and  regret  which,  whatever  Mr. 
Bowman  might  say,  was  clearly  prevalent.  I 
do  not  think  he  rose  to  the  occasion.  I  was 

10 


130         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

uncomfortable.  The  organ  wolved — you  know 
what  I  mean  :  the  wind  died — twice  in  the 
Christmas  Hymn,  and  the  tenor  bell,  I  suppose 
owing  to  some  negligence  on  the  part  of  the 
ringers,  kept  sounding  faintly  about  once  in 
a  minute  during  the  sermon.  The  clerk  sent 
up  a  man  to  see  to  it,  but  he  seemed  unable 
to  do  much.  I  was  glad  when  it  was  over. 
There  was  an  odd  incident,  too,  before  the 
service.  I  went  in  rather  early,  and  came  upon 
two  men  carrying  the  parish  bier  back  to  its 
place  under  the  tower.  From  what  I  over- 
heard them  saying,  it  appeared  that  it  had  been 
put  out  by  mistake,  by  some  one  who  was  not 
there.  I  also  saw  the  clerk  busy  folding  up 
a  moth-eaten  velvet  pall — not  a  sight  for 
Christmas  Day. 

I  dined  soon  after  this,  and  then,  feeling  dis- 
inclined to  go  out,  took  my  seat  by  the  fire  in 
the  parlour,  with  the  last  number  of  Pickwick, 
which  I  had  been  saving  up  for  some  days.  I 
thought  I  could  be  sure  of  keeping  awake  over 
this,  but  I  turned  out  as  bad  as  our  friend 
Smith.  I  suppose  it  was  half-past  two  when 
I  was  roused  by  a  piercing  whistle  and  laughing 
and  talking  voices  outside  in  the  market-place. 
It  was  a  Punch  and  Judy — I  had  no  doubt  the 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     181 

one  that  my  bagman  had  seen  at  W .  I 

was  half  delighted,  half  not — the  latter  because 
my  unpleasant  dream  came  back  to  me  so 
vividly ;  but,  anyhow,  I  determined  to  see  it 
through,  and  I  sent  Eliza  out  with  a  crown- 
piece  to  the  performers  and  a  request  that 
they  would  face  my  window  if  they  could 
manage  it. 

The  show  was  a  very  smart  new  one ;  the 
names  of  the  proprietors,  I  need  hardly  tell  you, 
were  Italian,  Foresta  and  Calpigi.  The  Toby 
dog  was  there,  as  I  had  been  led  to  expect.  All 

B turned  out,  but  did  not  obstruct  my 

view,  for  I  was  at  the  large  first-floor  window 
and  not  ten  j^ards  away. 

The  play  began  on  the  stroke  of  a  quarter 
to  three  by  the  church  clock.  Certainly  it  was 
very  good ;  and  I  was  soon  relieved  to  find 
that  the  disgust  my  dream  had  given  me  for 
Punch's  onslaughts  on  his  ill-starred  visitors 
was  only  transient.  I  laughed  at  the  demise  of 
the  Turncock,  the  Foreigner,  the  Beadle,  and 
even  the  baby.  The  only  drawback  was  the 
Toby  dog's  developing  a  tendency  to  howl  in 
the  wrong  place.  Something  had  occurred,  I 
suppose,  to  upset  him,  and  something  consider- 
able :  for,  I  forget  exactly  at  what  point,  he 


'132         A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

gave  a  most  lamentable  cry,  leapt  off  the  foot- 
board, and  shot  away  across  the  market-place 
and  down  a  side  street.  There  was  a  stage- 
wait,  but  only  a  brief  one.  I  suppose  the  men 
decided  that  it  was  no  good  going  after  him, 
and  that  he  was  likely  to  turn  up  again  at 
night. 

We  went  on.  Punch  dealt  faithfully  with 
Judy,  and  in  fact  with  all  comers  ;  and  then 
came  the  moment  when  the  gallows  was  erected, 
and  the  great  scene  with  Mr.  Ketch  was  to  be 
enacted.  It  was  now  that  something  happened 
of  which  I  can  certainly  not  yet  see  the  import 
fully.  You  have  witnessed  an  execution,  and 
know  what  the  criminal's  head  looks  like  with 
the  cap  on.  If  you  are  like  me,  you  never  wish 
to  think  of  it  again,  and  I  do  not  willingly 
remind  you  of  it.  It  was  just  such  a  head  as 
that,  that  I,  from  my  somewhat  higher  post, 
saw  in  the  inside  of  the  show-box  ;  but  at  first 
the  audience  did  not  see  it.  I  expected  it  to 
emerge  into  their  view,  but  instead  of  that 
there  slowly  rose  for  a  few  seconds  an  uncovered 
face,  with  an  expression  of  terror  upon  it,  of 
which  I  have  never  imagined  the  like.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  man,  whoever  he  was,  was 
being  forcibly  lifted,  with  his  arms  somehow 


A  DISAPPEARANCE  AND  APPEARANCE     133 

pinioned  or  held  back,  towards  the  little  gibbet 
on  the  stage.  I  could  just  see  the  nightcapped 
head  behind  him.  Then  there  was  a  cry  and 
a  crash.  The  whole  show-box  fell  over  back- 
wards ;  kicking  legs  were  seen  among  the  ruins, 
and  then  two  figures — as  some  said ;  I  can 
only  answer  for  one — were  visible  running  at 
top  speed  across  the  square  and  disappearing 
in  a  lane  which  leads  to  the  fields. 

Of  course  everybody  gave  chase.  I  followed  ; 
but  the  pace  was  killing,  and  very  few  were  in, 
literally,  at  the  death.  It  happened  in  a  chalk 
pit :  the  man  went  over  the  edge  quite  blindly 
and  broke  his  neck.  They  searched  everywhere 
for  the  other,  until  it  occurred  to  me  to  ask 
whether  he  had  ever  left  the  market-place.  At 
first  everyone  was  sure  that  he  had ;  but  when 
we  came  to  look,  he  was  there,  under  the  show- 
box,  dead  too. 

But  in  the  chalk  pit  it  was  that  poor  Uncle 
Henry's  body  was  found,  with  a  sack  over  the 
head,  the  throat  horribly  mangled.  It  was  a 
peaked  corner  of  the  sack  sticking  out  of  the 
soil  that  attracted  attention.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  write  in  greater  detail. 

I  forgot  to  say  the  men's  real  names  were 
Kidman  and  Gallop.  I  feel  sure  I  have  heard 


them,  but  no  one  here  seems  to  know  anything 
about  them. 

I  am  coming  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can  after  the 
funeral.  I  must  tell  you  when  we  meet  what 
I  think  of  it  all. 


TWO  DOCTORS 


TWO  DOCTORS 

IT  is  a  very  common  thing,  in  my  experience, 
to  find  papers  shut  up  in  old  books ;  but 
one  of  the  rarest  things  to  come  across  any 
such  that  are  at  all  interesting.  Still  it  does 
happen,  and  one  should  never  destroy  them 
unlooked  at.  Now  it  was  a  practice  of  mine 
before  the  war  occasionally  to  buy  old  ledgers 
of  which  the  paper  was  good,  and  which 
possessed  a  good  many  blank  leaves,  and  to  ex- 
tract these  and  use  them  for  my  own  notes  and 
writings.  One  such  I  purchased  for  a  small 
sum  in  1911.  It  was  tightly  clasped,  and  its 
boards  were  warped  by  having  for  years  been 
obliged  to  embrace  a  number  of  extraneous 
sheets.  Three-quarters  of  this  inserted  matter 
had  lost  all  vestige  of  importance  for  any 
living  human  being :  one  bundle  had  not.  That 
it  belonged  to  a  lawyer  is  certain,  for  it  is 
endorsed :  The  strangest  case  I  have  yet  met, 
and  bears  initials,  and  an  address  in  Gray's  Inn. 
It  is  only  materials  for  a  case,  and  consists  of 


188         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

statements  by  possible  witnesses.  The  man 
who  would  have  been  the  defendant  or  prisoner 
seems  never  to  have  appeared.  The  dossier  is 
not  complete,  but,  such  as  it  is,  it  furnishes 
a  riddle  in  which  the  supernatural  appears 
to  play  a  part.  You  must  see  what  you  can 
make  of  it. 

The  following  is  the  setting  and  the  tale  as 
I  elicit  it. 

Dr.  Abell  was  walking  in  his  garden  one 
afternoon  waiting  for  his  horse  to  be  brought 
round  that  he  might  set  out  on  his  visits  for 
the  day.  As  the  place  was  Islington,  the  month 
June,  and  the  year  1718,  we  conceive  the  sur- 
roundings as  being  countrified  and  pleasant. 
To  him  entered  his  confidential  servant,  Luke 
Jennett,  who  had  been  with  him  twenty  years. 

"  I  said  I  wished  to  speak  to  him,  and  what 
I  had  to  say  might  take  some  quarter  of  an 
hour.  He  accordingly  bade  me  go  into  his 
study,  which  was  a  room  opening  on  the  terrace 
path  where  he  was  walking,  and  came  in 
himself  and  sat  down.  I  told  him  that,  much 
against  my  will,  I  must  look  out  for  another 
place.  He  inquired  what  was  my  reason,  in 
consideration  I  had  been  so  long  with  him.  I 
said  if  he  would  excuse  me  he  would  do  me  a 


TWO  DOCTORS  139 

great  kindness,  because  (this  appears  to  have 
been  common  form  even  in  1718)  I  was  one 
that  alwaj^s  liked  to  have  everything  pleasant 
about  me.  As  well  as  I  can  remember,  he  said 
that  was  his  case  likewise,  but  he  would  wish 
to  know  why  I  should  change  my  mind  after 
so  many  years,  and,  says  he,  '  you  know  there 
can  be  no  talk  of  a  remembrance  of  you  in  my 
will  if  you  leave  my  service  now.'  I  said  I 
had  made  my  reckoning  of  that. 

"  '  Then,'  says  he,  '  you  must  have  some 
complaint  to  make,  and  if  I  could  I  would 
willingly  set  it  right.'  And  at  that  I  told  him, 
not  seeing  how  I  could  keep  it  back,  the  matter 
of  my  former  affidavit  and  of  the  bedstaff  in 
the  dispensing-room,  and  said  that  a  house 
where  such  things  happened  was  no  place  for 
me.  At  which  he,  looking  very  black  upon  me, 
said  no  more,  but  called  me  fool,  and  said  he 
would  pay  what  was  owing  me  in  the  morning  ; 
and  so,  his  horse  being  waiting,  went  out.  So 
for  that  night  I  lodged  with  my  sister's  husband 
near  Battle  Bridge  and  came  early  next  morning 
to  my  late  master,  who  then  made  a  great 
matter  that  I  had  not  lain  in  his  house  and 
stopped  a  crown  out  of  my  wages  owing. 

"  After  that  I  took  service  here  and  there, 


140         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

not  for  long  at  a  time,  and  saw  no  more  of 
him  till  I  came  to  be  Dr.  Quinn's  man  at  Dodds 
Hall  in  Islington." 

There  is  one  very  obscure  part  in  this  state- 
ment, namely,  the  reference  to  the  former 
affidavit  and  the  matter  of  the  bedstaff.  The 
former  affidavit  is  not  in  the  bundle  of  papers. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  it  was  taken  out  to  be 
read  because  of  its  special  oddity,  and  not  put 
back.  Of  what  nature  the  story  was  may  be 
guessed  later,  but  as  yet  no  clue  has  been  put 
into  our  hands. 

The  Rector  of  Islington,  Jonathan  Pratt,  is  the 
next  to  step  forward.  He  furnishes  particulars 
of  the  standing  and  reputation  of  Dr.  Abell 
and  Dr.  Quinn,  both  of  whom  lived  and  prac- 
tised in  his  parish. 

"It  is  not  to  be  supposed,"  he  says,  "  that 
a  physician  should  be  a  regular  attendant  at 
morning  and  evening  prayers,  or  at  the  Wednes- 
day lectures,  but  within  the  measure  of  their 
ability  I  would  say  that  both  these  persons 
fulfilled  their  obligations  as  loyal  members  of 
the  Church  of  England.  At  the  same  time  (as 
you  desire  my  private  mind)  I  must  say,  in  the 
language  of  the  schools,  distingue.  Dr.  A.  was 
to  me  a  source  of  perplexity,  Dr.  Q.  to  my 


TWO   DOCTORS  141 

eye  a  plain,  honest  believer,  not  inquiring  over 
closely  into  points  of  belief,  but  squaring  his 
practice  to  what  lights  he  had.  The  other 
interested  himself  in  questions  to  which  Provi- 
dence, as  I  hold,  designs  no  answer  to  be  given 
us  in  this  state  :  he  would  ask  me,  for  example, 
what  place  I  believed  those  beings  now  to  hold 
in  the  scheme  of  creation  which  by  some  are 
thought  neither  to  have  stood  fast  when  the 
rebel  angels  fell,  nor  to  have  joined  with  them 
to  the  full  pitch  of  their  transgression. 

"  As  was  suitable,  my  first  answer  to  him  was 
a  question,  What  warrant  he  had  for  supposing 
any  such  beings  to  exist  ?  for  that  there  was 
none  in  Scripture  I  took  it  he  was  aware.  It 
appeared — for  as  I  am  on  the  subject,  the 
whole  tale  majr  be  given — that  he  grounded  him- 
self on  such  passages  as  that  of  the  satyr  which 
Jerome  tells  us  conversed  with  Antony ;  but 
thought  too  that  some  parts  of  Scripture  might 
be  cited  in  support.  '  And  besides,'  said  he, 
'  you  know  'tis  the  universal  belief  among 
those  that  spend  their  days  and  nights  abroad, 
and  I  would  add  that  if  your  calling  took  you 
so  continuously  as  it  does  me  about  the  country 
lanes  by  night,  you  might  not  be  so  surprised 
as  I  see  you  to  be  by  my  suggestion.'  '  You 


142         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

are  then  of  John  Milton's  mind,'  I  said,  'and 
hold  that 

Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
Unseen,  both  when  we  wake  and  when  we  sleep.' 


u  c 


I  do  not  know,'  he  said,  '  why  Milton 
should  take  upon  himself  to  say  "unseen"; 
though  to  be  sure  he  was  blind  when  he  wrote 
that.  But  for  the  rest,  why,  yes,  I  think  he 
was  in  the  right.'  '  Well,'  I  said,  '  though  not 
so  often  as  you,  I  am  not  seldom  called  abroad 
pretty  late  ;  but  I  have  no  mind  of  meeting 
a  satyr  in  our  Islington  lanes  in  all  the  years 
I  have  been  here  ;  and  if  you  have  had  the 
better  luck,  I  am  sure  the  Royal  Society  would 
be  glad  to  know  of  it.' 

"lam  reminded  of  these  trifling  expressions 
because  Dr.  A.  took  them  so  ill,  stamping  out 
of  the  room  in  a  huff  with  some  such  word  as 
that  these  high  and  dr}^  parsons  had  no  eyes 
but  for  a  prayerbook  or  a  pint  of  wine. 

"But  this  was  not  the  only  time  that  our 
conversation  took  a  remarkable  turn.  There 
was  an  evening  when  he  came  in,  at  first  seeming 
gay  and  in  good  spirits,  but  afterwards  as  he 
sat  and  smoked  by  the  fire  falling  into  a  musing 
way  ;  out  of  which  to  rouse  him  I  said  pleasantly 


TWO  DOCTORS  143 

that  I  supposed  he  had  had  no  meetings  of 
late  with  his  odd  friends.  A  question  which 
did  effectually  arouse  him,  for  he  looked  most 
wildly,  and  as  if  scared,  upon  me,  and  said, 
'  You  were  never  there  ?  I  did  not  see 
you.  Who  brought  you  ?  '  And  then  in  a 
more  collected  tone,  '  What  was  this  about  a 
meeting  ?  I  believe  I  must  have  been  in  a 
doze.'  To  which  I  answered  that  I  was  think- 
ing of  fauns  and  centaurs  in  the  dark  lane, 
and  not  of  a  witches'  Sabbath ;  but  it  seemed 
he  took  it  differently. 

'  Well,'  said  he,  '  I  can  plead  guilty  to 
neither  ;  but  I  find  you  very  much  more  of 
a  sceptic  than  becomes  your  cloth.  If  you 
care  to  know  about  the  dark  lane  you  might 
do  worse  than  ask  my  housekeeper  that  lived 
at  the  other  end  of  it  when  she  was  a  child.' 
'  Yes,'  said  I,  *  and  the  old  women  in  the 
almshouse  and  the  children  in  the  kennel.  If 
I  were  you,  I  would  send  to  your  brother  Quinn 
for  a  bolus  to  clear  your  brain.'  '  Damn 
Quinn,'  says  he  ;  '  talk  no  more  of  him  :  he 
has  embezzled  four  of  my  best  patients  this 
month  ;  I  believe  it  is  that  cursed  man  of  his, 
Jennett,  that  used  to  be  with  me,  his  tongue  is 
never  still ;  it  should  be  nailed  to  the  pillory 


144         A  THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS  **•' 

if  he  had  his  deserts.'  This,  I  may  say,  was 
the  only  time  of  his  showing  me  that  he  had 
any  grudge  against  either  Dr.  Quinn  or  Jennett, 
and  as  was  my  business,  I  did  my  best  to 
persuade  him  he  was  mistaken  in  them.  Yet 
it  could  not  be  denied  that  some  respectable 
families  in  the  parish  had  given  him  the  cold 
shoulder,  and  for  no  reason  that  they  were  will- 
ing to  allege.  The  end  was  that  he  said  he  had 
not  done  so  ill  at  Islington  but  that  he  could 
afford  to  live  at  ease  elsewhere  when  he  chose, 
and  anyhow  he  bore  Dr.  Quinn  no  malice.  I 
think  I  now  remember  what  observation  of  mine 
drew  him  into  the  train  of  thought  which  he 
next  pursued.  It  was,  I  believe,  my  mentioning 
some  juggling  tricks  which  my  brother  in  the 
East  Indies  had  seen  at  the  court  of  the  Rajah 
of  Mysore.  '  A  convenient  thing  enough,'  said 
Dr.  Abell  to  me,  '  if  by  some  arrangement 
a  man  could  get  the  power  of  communicating 
motion  and  energy  to  inanimate  objects.'  'As 
if  the  axe  should  move  itself  against  him  that 
lifts  it ;  something  of  that  kind  ?  '  '  Well,  I 
don't  know  that  that  was  in  my  mind  so  much  ; 
but  if  you  could  summon  such  a  volume  from 
your  shelf  or  even  order  it  to  open  at  the  right 
page.' 


TWO   DOCTORS  145 

"  He  was  sitting  by  the  fire — it  was  a  cold 
evening — and  stretched  out  his  hand  that  way, 
and  just  then  the  fire-irons,  or  at  least  the 
poker,  fell  over  towards  him  with  a  great 
clatter,  and  I  did  not  hear  what  else  he 
said.  But  I  told  him  that  I  could  not  easily 
conceive  of  an  arrangement,  as  he  called  it, 
of  such  a  kind  that  would  not  include  as  one 
of  its  conditions  a  heavier  payment  than  any 
Christian  would  care  to  make  ;  to  which  he 
assented.  '  But,'  he  said,  '  I  have  no  doubt 
these  bargains  can  be  made  very  tempting,  very 
persuasive.  Still,  you  would  not  favour  them, 
eh,  Doctor  ?  No,  I  suppose  not.' 

"This  is  as  much  as  I  know  of  Dr.  Abell's 
mind,  and  the  feeling  between  these  men.  Dr. 
Quinn,  as  I  said,  was  a  plain,  honest  creature, 
and  a  man  to  whom  I  would  have  gone — indeed 
I  have  before  now  gone  to  him  for  advice  on 
matters  of  business.  He  was,  however,  every 
now  and  again,  and  particularly  of  late,  not 
exempt  from  troublesome  fancies.  There  was 
certainly  a  time  when  he  was  so  much  harassed 
by  his  dreams  that  he  could  not  keep  them  to 
himself,  but  would  tell  them  to  his  acquaint- 
ances and  among  them  to  me.  I  was  at  supper 
at  his  house,  and  he  was  not  inclined  to  let  me 

11 


146         A  THIN  GHOST  AND  OTHERS 

leave  him  at  my  usual  time.  '  If  you  go,'  he 
said,  '  there  will  be  nothing  for  it  but  I  must 
go  to  bed  and  dream  of  the  chrysalis.'  '  You 
might  be  worse  off,'  said  I.  '  I  do  not  think 
it,'  he  said,  and  he  shook  himself  like  a  man  who 
is  displeased  with  the  complexion  of  his  thoughts. 
' 1  only  meant,'  said  I,  '  that  a  chrysalis  is 
an  innocent  thing.'  '  This  one  is  not,'  he  said, 
'  and  I  do  not  care  to  think  of  it.' 

"However,  sooner  than  lose  my  company  he 
was  fain  to  tell  me  (for  I  pressed  him)  that 
this  was  a  dream  which  had  come  to  him 
several  times  of  late,  and  even  more  than  once 
in  a  night.  It  was  to  this  effect,  that  he  seemed 
to  himself  to  wake  under  an  extreme  com- 
pulsion to  rise  and  go  out  of  doors.  So  he 
would  dress  himself  and  go  down  to  his  garden 
door.  By  the  door  there  stood  a  spade  which 
he  must  take,  and  go  out  into  the  garden,  and 
at  a  particular  place  in  the  shrubbery  some- 
what clear  and  upon  which  the  moon  shone, 
for  there  was  always  in  his  dream  a  full  moon, 
he  would  feel  himself  forced  to  dig.  And  after 
some  time  the  spade  would  uncover  something 
light-coloured,  which  he  would  perceive  to  be 
a  stuff,  linen  or  woollen,  and  this  he  must  clear 
with  his  hands.  It  was  always  the  same :  of 


TWO   DOCTORS  147 

the  size  of  a  man  and  shaped  like  the  chrysalis 
of  a  moth,  with  the  folds  showing  a  promise 
of  an  opening  at  one  end. 

"He  could  not  describe  how  gladly  he  would 
have  left  all  at  this  stage  and  run  to  the  house, 
but  he  must  not  escape  so  easily.  So  with 
many  groans,  and  knowing  only  too  well  what 
to  expect,  he  parted  these  folds  of  stuff,  or, 
as  it  sometimes  seemed  to  be,  membrane,  and 
disclosed  a  head  covered  with  a  smooth  pink 
skin,  which  breaking  as  the  creature  stirred, 
showed  him  his  own  face  in  a  state  of  death. 
The  telling  of  this  so  much  disturbed  him  that 
I  was  forced  out  of  mere  compassion  to  sit 
with  him  the  greater  part  of  the  night  and 
talk  with  him  upon  indifferent  subjects.  He 
said  that  upon  every  recurrence  of  this  dream 
he  woke  and  found  himself,  as  it  were,  fighting 
for  his  breath." 

Another  extract  from  Luke  Jennett's  long 
continuous  statement  comes  in  at  this  point. 

"  I  never  told  tales  of  my  master,  Dr.  Abell, 
to  anybody  in  the  neighbourhood.  When  I 
was  in  another  service  I  remember  to  have 
spoken  to  my  fellow-servants  about  the  matter 
of  the  bedstaff,  but  I  am  sure  I  never  said 
either  I  or  he  were  the  persons  concerned,  and 


148         A   THIN   GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

it  met  with  so  little  credit  that  I  was  affronted 
and  thought  best  to  keep  it  to  myself.  And 
when  I  came  back  to  Islington  and  found  Dr. 
Abell  still  there,  who  I  was  told  had  left  the 
parish,  I  was  clear  that  it  behoved  me  to  use 
great  discretion,  for  indeed  I  was  afraid  of 
the  man,  and  it  is  certain  I  was  no  party  to 
spreading  any  ill  report  of  him.  My  master, 
Dr.  Quinn,  was  a  very  just,  honest  man,  and  no 
maker  of  mischief.  I  am  sure  he  never  stirred 
a  finger  nor  said  a  word  by  way  of  inducement 
to  a  soul  to  make  them  leave  going  to  Dr.  Abell 
and  come  to  him ;  nay,  he  would  hardly  be 
persuaded  to  attend  them  that  came,  until  he 
was  convinced  that  if  he  did  not  they  would 
send  into  the  town  for  a  physician  rather  than 
do  as  they  had  hitherto  done. 

"  I  believe  it  may  be  proved  that  Dr.  Abell 
came  into  my  master's  house  more  than  once. 
We  had  a  new  chambermaid  out  of  Hertford- 
shire, and  she  asked  me  who  was  the  gentleman 
that  was  looking  after  the  master,  that  is  Dr. 
Quinn,  when  he  was  out,  and  seemed  so  dis- 
appointed that  he  was  out.  She  said  whoever 
he  was  he  knew  the  way  of  the  house  well, 
running  at  once  into  the  study  and  then  into 
the  dispensing-room,  and  last  into  the  bed- 


TWO   DOCTORS  149 

chamber.  I  made  her  tell  me  what  he  was 
like,  and  what  she  said  was  suitable  enough  to 
Dr.  Abell ;  but  besides  she  told  me  she  saw 
the  same  man  at  church  and  some  one  told 
her  that  was  the  Doctor. 

"  It  was  just  after  this  that  my  master  began 
to  have  his  bad  nights,  and  complained  to  me 
and  other  persons,  and  in  particular  what  dis- 
comfort he  suffered  from  his  pillow  and  bed- 
clothes. He  said  he  must  buy  some  to  suit 
him,  and  should  do  his  own  marketing.  And 
accordingly  brought  home  a  parcel  which  he 
said  was  of  the  right  quality,  but  where  he 
bought  it  we  had  then  no  knowledge,  only  they 
were  marked  in  thread  with  a  coronet  and  a 
bird.  The  women  said  they  were  of  a  sort 
not  commonly  met  with  and  very  fine,  and  my 
master  said  they  were  the  comfortablest  he  ever 
used,  and  he  slept  now  both  soft  and  deep. 
Also  the  feather  pillows  were  the  best  sorted 
and  his  head  would  sink  into  them  as  if  they 
were  a  cloud  :  which  I  have  myself  remarked 
several  times  when  I  came  to  wake  him  of  a 
morning,  his  face  being  almost  hid  by  the 
pillow  closing  over  it. 

"  I  had  never  any  communication  with  Dr. 
Abell  after  I  came  back  to  Islington,  but  one 


150 

day  when  he  passed  me  in  the  street  and  asked 
me  whether  I  was  not  looking  for  another 
service,  to  which  I  answered  I  was  very  well 
suited  where  I  was,  but  he  said  I  was  a  tickle- 
minded  fellow  and  he  doubted  not  he  should 
soon  hear  I  was  on  the  world  again,  which 
indeed  proved  true." 

Dr.  Pratt  is  next  taken  up  where  he  left  off. 

"  On  the  16th  I  was  called  up  out  of  my  bed 
soon  after  it  was  light — that  is  about  five— 
with  a  message  that  Dr.  Quinn  was  dead  or 
dying.  Making  my  way  to  his  house  I  found 
there  was  no  doubt  which  was  the  truth.  All 
the  persons  in  the  house  except  the  one  that 
let  me  in  were  already  in  his  chamber  and 
standing  about  his  bed,  but  none  touching  him. 
He  was  stretched  in  the  midst  of  the  bed,  on 
his  back,  without  any  disorder,  and  indeed  had 
the  appearance  of  one  ready  laid  out  for  burial. 
His  hands,  I  think,  were  even  crossed  on  his 
breast.  The  only  thing  not  usual  was  that  noth- 
ing was  to  be  seen  of  his  face,  the  two  ends  of  the 
pillow  or  bolster  appearing  to  be  closed  quite 
over  it.  These  I  immediately  pulled  apart,  at 
the  same  time  rebuking  those  present,  and 
especially  the  man,  for  not  at  once  coming  to 
the  assistance  of  his  master.  He,  however,  only 


TWO  DOCTORS  151 

looked  at  me  and  shook  his  head,  having 
evidently  no  more  hope  than  myself  that  there 
was  anything  but  a  corpse  before  us. 

"  Indeed  it  was  plain  to  any  one  possessed 
of  the  least  experience  that  he  was  not  only 
dead,  but  had  died  of  suffocation.  Nor  could 
it  be  conceived  that  his  death  was  accidentally 
caused  by  the  mere  folding  of  the  pillow  over 
his  face.  How  should  he  not,  feeling  the 
oppression,  have  lifted  his  hands  to  put  it 
away  ?  whereas  not  a  fold  of  the  sheet  which 
was  closely  gathered  about  him,  as  I  now 
observed,  was  disordered.  The  next  thing  was 
to  procure  a  physician.  I  had  bethought  me 
of  this  on  leaving  my  house,  and  sent  on  the 
messenger  who  had  come  to  me  to  Dr.  Abell ; 
but  I  now  heard  that  he  was  away  from  home, 
and  the  nearest  surgeon  was  got,  who  however 
could  tell  no  more,  at  least  without  opening 
the  body,  than  we  already  knew. 

"As  to  any  person  entering  the  room  with 
evil  purpose  (which  was  the  next  point  to  be 
cleared),  it  was  visible  that  the  bolts  of  the 
door  were  burst  from  their  stanchions,  and 
the  stanchions  broken  away  from  the  door-post 
by  main  force;  and  there  was  a  sufficient  body 
of  witness,  the  smith  among  them,  to  testify 


152         A  THIN  GHOST  AND   OTHERS 

that  this  had  been  done  but  a  few  minutes 
before  I  came.  The  chamber  being  moreover 
at  the  top  of  the  house,  the  window  was  neither 
easy  of  access  nor  did  it  show  any  sign  of  an 
exit  made  that  way,  either  by  marks  upon  the 
sill  or  footprints  below  upon  soft  mould." 

The  surgeon's  evidence  forms  of  course  part 
of  the  report  of  the  inquest,  but  since  it  has 
nothing  but  remarks  upon  the  healthy  state  of 
the  larger  organs  and  the  coagulation  of  blood 
in  various  parts  of  the  body,  it  need  not  be 
reproduced.  The  verdict  was  "Death  by  the 
visitation  of  God." 

Annexed  to  the  other  papers  is  one  which  I 
was  at  first  inclined  to  suppose  had  made  its 
way  among  them  by  mistake.  Upon  further 
consideration  I  think  I  can  divine  a  reason 
for  its  presence. 

It  relates  to  the  rifling  of  a  mausoleum  in 
Middlesex  which  stood  in  a  park  (now  broken 
up),  the  property  of  a  noble  family  which  I  will 
not  name.  The  outrage  was  not  that  of  an  or- 
dinary resurrection  man.  The  object,  it  seemed 
likely,  was  theft.  The  account  is  blunt  and  ter- 
rible. I  shall  not  quote  it.  A  dealer  in  the  North 
of  London  suffered  heavy  penalties  as  a  receiver 
of  stolen  goods  in  connexion  with  the  affair. 

Printed  in  Great  Britain  by 

UNTVIN  BROTHERS,  LIMITED,  THE  GBESHAil  PRESS,  VfOXISQ  AND  LONDON 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


INI 


Duel 


Form  I. 


3  1158  00739  0312 


BKESTANO'S 

looksellers  \  -lallo 

New  York     ' 


